Body Image II:  View Askew
by shannygoat
Summary: Sequel to Body Image. Whether one is 285 pounds or has a flat chest, the only body image that is important is your own. But, is it possible to be body beautiful when you judge yourself through the eyes of those you love? Orton,Jeff Hardy, OC.  R
1. Chapter 1

Title: Body Image II: View Askew

By: Shannygoat

Rating: NC-17, sexual content, adult themes, language, discrimination

Characters: Randy Orton, Jeff Hardy, and others.

Summary: Sequel to Body Image. Whether one is 285 pounds or has a flat chest, the only body image that is important is your own. But, is it possible to be body beautiful when you judge yourself through the eyes of those you love?

Disclaimer: I do not know or own any of the people in this story who are not born of my imagination. The characters of the WWE superstars are loosely based off of their TV personas and I do not have permission to use them in my fiction. The are owned by themselves and managed by Vince McMahon. Thanks for not suing.

_A/N: Okay…so first I said I wasn't doing a sequel. Then I said I would, but I wasn't going to post it until it was finished. You know what I learned? I'm full of shit. _

_Anyway, I know how much you all got into Body Image, so be warned…this story takes on a different perspective of the Body Image challenge. I'd like to thank my beta for bouncing around ideas with me and encouraging me to write this. I have enough written to feel comfortable with where I am and where this is going. _

_With that, please, sit back... **trust me** and enjoy the ride. You guys rock and I look forward to hearing from you!_

_xoxoxo_

_Shanny_

* * *

Prologue

The halogen lamp provided more light than the small room needed. With a grunt, she leaned over and clicked the switch to end the torture on her eyes. Finally, it was quiet and all she had to concentrate on was catching a few minutes of sleep. Shifting in the folding chair, Parker Sutton placed both feet up on the opposite chair and let her head touch the wall behind her. Her feet were pulsating and she swore she could feel fluid collecting in her lower extremities, but she couldn't be concerned about that. It wasn't like she could do anything about it right now, anyway.

She felt like she was falling, due to the speed that sleep quickly washed over her. But as soon as she was able to drown out the shitty day that wouldn't fucking end, her cell phone rang. With a jolt she sat up and grabbed the phone from off of the table. Her heart was pounding from being startled, but she still tried to answer as professionally as possible. "This is Parker."

"Dr. Sutton!" A smiling voice answered on the other end. "Were you dreaming about me?"

She was too tired to argue, but the tone of his voice made her want to try. "No…not at all."

"Then, I guess I'm just gonna have to work harder. I should always be on your mind."

She could tell he was smirking through the damn phone. Leave it to Randy Orton to make her completely forget that she was tired and hating life at the moment. "You better be careful…you might throw your back out." A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone.

For the past six months Parker and Randy had been seeing each other off and on. Everything seemed to have happened so fast, that she still didn't know how _they _happened. One day, she was infatuated with John Cena, met him and slept with him. Then things with John turned to shit when he decided to tell the world about it on the Howard Stern show. The next thing Parker knew, Randy Orton became her knight in boot cut denim.

It was that one night, when Randy showed her just how beautiful he thought she was, when things between them changed. He went from the "eh"guy, to a fucking sexy beast in her eyes. And since their time together in Puerto Rico, they started _something_. Neither one of them could define exactly _what_ they started, but the important thing was, it was fun. Randy made her laugh. His rude-ass, crass, conceited, self-centered, delusions of grandeur, always put a smile on her face. It seemed to be his gift to her. No matter what she was going through, Randy always made it better by just the sound of his voice. With all of the other shit she had going on, she could always count on Randy to pull her out of a slump simply by saying something off the cuff.

"Nah…I'ma bust that ass wide open, that's about it." Just the thought of doing that made Randy shift in the driver's seat. "You being easy?"

If that wasn't the question to end all questions. There was a time when all she could do was think about becoming a doctor. Now that she was actually working in the hospital, she was having some serious second thoughts. Long days, endless patients, rounds, taking notes, and still attending classes; Parker started to wonder if being a doctor was really all it was cracked up to be.

"Please. I'm tired, my feet and my back hurt…I've been here for the past twenty hours and, because it's raining outside, people keep coming to the fucking emergency room. I don't know if I'm gonna get to leave when my shift is over." Reaching down, Parker massaged the cramp in her calf muscle with a loud grunt. "Why in the hell did I pick a transitional internship again? I should have just gone with prelim and worked in a fucking doctor's office. At least I would have had a normal nine to five."

Even though he agreed, he would never tell her that. She was so excited when she was offered the internship at Hopkins and the only reason she took the transitional position was because the Chief of Staff hand-picked her because he seemed to think she had potential. Randy would agree, Parker was going to make an amazing doctor, but the track she took meant she had little to no free time. For the first three months they started seeing each other, she had time to visit him. But since this internship, that was all shot to shit. His schedule was bad enough, hers made it damn near impossible.

"Tell them I said, nobody works my girl that hard… except me." Randy quickly put up his middle finger at Jeff Hardy who was laughing at him from the passenger's seat. "You want a massage, Pooh?"

"Right now? I'll take whatever you can give me."

Letting a deep chuckle come from him, Randy paid the toll and continued driving. "Oh, I got a lot I can give you. You think you can handle it?"

"I think you got that the other way around. Can _you _handle it?" Parker's brow shot up and she felt herself smile. "Where are y'all now?"

"Just outside of Philly. We should be there in a couple of hours." Finally getting the car back up to the speed he was comfortable with, he switched on the cruise control and sat back in seat. "I'm gonna drop Hardy off first, then I'll be over. I'll see you later."

Disconnecting the call, Parker fumbled with the wrapper on the single package of powered mini-donuts. If nothing else, the sugar fix would settle the rumbling in her stomach for a little while. Her schedule was so hectic that she couldn't remember the last time she had a real meal and the hospital cafeteria didn't serve what she would consider food. The vending machine just outside the emergency room proved to be her source of nutrition for the last few months. She told herself she was proving her theory that if it was cooked in vegetable oil, it became a vegetable. Eating Fritos, donuts, and butterscotch Krimpets several times a day was making her feel more tired and irregular than anything. But if nothing else, it helped maintain her fabulous figure, or so she joked. But the truth of the matter was at the moment, being two hundred eighty-five pounds wasn't all that damn fabulous.

Everyday, Parker's feet, ankles, calves, and back reminded her just how much she weighed and she honestly didn't know if she could do the entire two year rotation at that rate. Skinny people weren't meant to stand upwards of ten hours at a time and on days like this one, Parker had been on her feet for twice that long.

Looking down at her pager, she cringed before popping the last donut into her mouth and downing the rest of the Vanilla Coke in the bottle. _Please God, whatever this is, just let me be able to get out of here in a half an hour. _She discarded her trash and limped on her swollen feet toward the emergency room doors.

Something had to give.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Parker let out an audible sigh as she settled in the bathtub. She had used so much Epsom Salt that she could feel the tiny granules under her legs as she desperately tried to get comfortable. Resting her head on the back of the tub, she raised one leg to look at her foot. Her toes looked like little Vienna sausages, they were so swollen, and her ankle wasn't in much better shape. She ran her foot over the spigot and distinctly felt a blister starting to form on the ball of her foot.

This shit was getting fucking ridiculous. Doctors were supposed to help people, not put their own health at risk in the process. Her feet were screaming that to her in protest. And judging from the condition that they were in, there was no way in hell she was going to be able to wear the cute new shoes that she bought. She'd have to worry about that later. With three days off _and_ Randy coming over, more than likely she wouldn't get a chance to put shoes on. It's not like they really did anything outside of her apartment anyway. He was usually just as tired as she was and when they managed to steal a little time together, it was usually spent fucking, sleeping, ordering in, and vegging out. It didn't sound like the most exciting relationship in the world, if it could even be called a relationship, but it was all that either had time for.

"This better be good." Parker answered her cell phone with a sigh. Even in the tub she didn't get a minute to herself.

Avery Brooks, Parker's best friend and partner in crime, let out a huff as she settled on the couch in her apartment. "Park…have you heard from Randy? I tried calling Jeff but his phone is going straight to voicemail."

Avery Brooks and Jeff Hardy… that was a couple that their friends didn't think stood a snowball's chance in hell. If ever two people that were complete opposites never needed to be together, it was Avery and Jeff. Much like Parker and Randy, their relationship was unexpected. Avery was sweetheart, but she could be volatile at times. Not one to just snap out on a person for no good reason, Avery usually lost her damn mind when someone she cared about was threatened or if she felt cornered. If it hadn't been for that night where she tried to bust Charlie Haas' head open and whip John Cena's ass, nothing would have ever come of Jeff and Avery. But Jeff admired her loyalty to her friend and that pit bull attitude of hers. It took really getting to know her, to realize that she was a really sweet albeit, insecure girl. It was her insecurities that caused her to be so damn defensive. But he liked that about her, she was in complete contrast of his personality.

Jeff was more laid back, and analytical. He always assessed the situation and tried to be the voice of reason with his friends. That's not to say that Jeff wouldn't go off, if prompted, but initially he'd try to explain the situation first. Avery? She would explain what was going on _while_ whipping that ass. She was reactionary while he was introspective and he was the calm to her storm. She was the one that took him out his own head space and brought that other side of him back down to earth.

Jeff Hardy was the first guy in ages that took the time to get to know her, before he tried to sleep with her. And though she appreciated him for that, after dating him seriously for three months, that Southern gentleman shit was tap dancing on her last fucking nerve.

"Yeah...about an hour ago. They should be here around eleven. He's gonna drop Jeff off first." Parker reached over put the vanilla scented candle on the edge of the tub. This aroma therapy shit needed to start working.

Drawing her knees up to her chest Avery shook her head. "Okay, so I've made an executive decision. This is the weekend when Jeff and I get down." It was eating at her. For months he had the opportunity but just didn't take it. "Cause if he doesn't give it up willingly…I'm taking that shit by force."

"Ry-Ry, it's just sex." Parker was entirely too tired to deal with Avery's whining about why Jeff wouldn't sleep with her. On any other day, she would be right there, dispelling every paranoid thought in Avery's mind. But right now, the only thing she could think about was, _are my ankles actually getting bigger?_

A dismissive chuckle came from Avery's mouth. "Bitch, you only say that shit because you're fucking getting it. You're fucking Randy Orton, the horniest motherfucker I've ever met in my life. While _I _on the other hand, am with Jeff. The nicest guy on the fucking planet. He's so fucking nice, in fact, that in three months, I've had no dick. None, nada…zilch. I'm gonna forget how to do it. I fucking _need_ to get laid."

"You're like a bitch in heat."

"I am. You think it sounds bad, how in the fuck do you think I feel?" This was so frustrating. Avery adored Jeff. He was quite possibly the nicest guy she had ever met. He was always so sweet and patient with her, even when she went off about the slightest things. She knew she was high-maintenance, but that didn't bother him in the least. He accepted her for who she was, flaws and all. She didn't have to pretend to be something else, something more like what he was use to, when she was with him. She could whine about having cramps and sure enough, he would have a heating pad. She could get drunk and start doing table dances, and Jeff would be dancing right beside her. Nothing she did seemed to bother him, so why in the hell wouldn't he sleep with her? "I like him so much, Park. This shit is getting on my nerves. I'm about to catch a charge for raping a motherfucker."

Parker chuckled. Avery's frustration wasn't funny, but the way she carrying on was. "Maybe he's got a little dick. He might be trying to save you from that disappointment."

"Well shit… he's got a fucking tongue and I got plenty of toys. We can work it out. My tits may be little, but damn, the rest of me ain't. This is some good shit over here." Standing up from the couch, Avery took the cordless phone into the bathroom with her. "That's it…it's going down this weekend, and if it doesn't, I'm gonna need you as a character witness at my trial."

Parker laughed at her friend, no longer feeling her feet pulsate. Thank God for small miracles. "They don't lock up Supermodels. We're too damn fly for that shit."

"All I have to say on the matter, is that motherfucker better be eating out tonight, or I'm sending is ass to your place." Gathering her shampoo and conditioner, Avery placed the items in the bathtub.

"Oh fuck no. You ain't cock blocking because you ain't getting any." Tired or not, she was doing Randy when he got there. Some things were just a given. "Y'all better play Scrabble or some shit and leave me the hell alone."

"Alright, I'm gonna get in the shower. I need to smell good for my night of no dick." Avery shook her head at the prospect. "Have a good one."

"You too…and if you hear screaming from across town. It's just me…Getting my freak on, dawg!"

Avery tried to keep the smile out of her voice, but to no avail. "Fuck you, Parker."

"That would be Randy's job. See ya later."


	2. Chapter 2

The slight drizzle left the otherwise blacken asphalt on I-95 glistening under the shine of the street lights. The windshield wipers trailed back and forth at a steady rhythm as the Ford Explorer made its journey south. Baltimore, Maryland had become a home away from home, and neither of the truck's occupants could explain how in the hell that happened.

Randy Orton had never been a settle down, one-woman-man kind of guy. But there was something about Parker that was different. It wasn't that he wasn't attracted to any other women, but, somehow he knew other women wouldn't do the same thing for him that Parker did. By no means was Randy interested in marriage or babies and he wouldn't even go so far as to say that he loved her, yet. He just opted not to see anyone else, because somehow he knew that he'd never be able to replicate what he already had.

He still couldn't pinpoint what it was about her that he was most attracted to. Most people that saw them together thought they were grossly mismatched. He was tall and muscular and took pride in parading around in his tight little wrestling trunks, showing off his God given assets. He was sexy as a motherfucker, with his dark hair and beautiful blue eyes, and he damn well knew it. Looking at him no one would think that he would have just one serious relationship and then definitely not with a girl that looked liked his did. But, Randy was Randy. He did what he wanted, fuck what everyone thought or said. He may have gotten around, but he knew a good thing when he found it. And it was because of that reason that it just so happened, his dick only had one person's name on it. Parker Sutton.

Parker had an endless list of amenities that Randy enjoyed. Standing at only five foot four inches tall, with long dark brown hair and brown eyes, she was easily an attractive woman; especially with her plump lips and a beautiful smile and that infectious laugh that made everyone laugh along with her. She had what Randy would consider an amazing rack, measuring in at a size triple D. Her chest often diverted his attention and was one of the reasons that they couldn't seem to get anything else done but each other when he was around. But, despite all of those pluses, Parker was also considerably overweight.

At two hundred eighty-five pounds, she was absolutely perfect for Randy. Her weight was secondary; he just liked _her_ that much. Even from the first time he saw her, he didn't notice her size…the size of her chest, yes, but the rest of her… not so much. She was everything that Randy wanted in a woman; sexy, confident, a smart ass, witty, funny, and charming. She was the only woman he knew that could go round for round verbally with him and not be offended or put off from some of the foul shit that he said. Being with Parker reminded him of being with Cena… only they didn't argue and he could fuck her. Having John Cena as a best friend was good. But having Parker as a…whatever she was, was just that much better.

"Why the fuck you smiling like that?" Randy glanced over at Jeff Hardy, knitting his brow trying to figure out the reason for his Kool-aid grin. He had been smiling like that since before Randy hung up the phone with Parker. It was one thing to be joked for being somewhat endearing, he couldn't help it. Parker brought that out of him. But it was something completely different to be sitting next to a man who was staring at him and grinning like a fucking idiot.

"Nothing." Shaking his head, Jeff smiled happily and reclined in his seat. "_You wanna massage, Pooh_?" He teased in a voice mocking Randy's. "You really like her don't you?"

"Yeah. And?" If it was one thing Randy hated it was to be made fun of about Parker. He couldn't help it. Randy Orton was _not_ an affectionate guy; it just wasn't in his makeup. He could be a real dick and would never be confused with the fuzzy, cuddly type. But there was something about Parker that made him use terms of endearment, even if it was usually followed by a sexual innuendo. She liked it and fuck…she _was_ his Pooh Bear. Where the name came from? He had no clue, but it worked so he stuck with it. "Like you don't talk to your girl like that."

Jeff cut his eyes at Randy and stared poignantly. "I ain't you."

"Speaking of your girl…" How could he put it? There was a tactful way to say something and then there was the Randy way. Unfortunately, Randy Orton wasn't tactful; he was brutally honest, almost to a fault. That was the one quality that _almost_ everyone admired about him. "You knockin' her down, yet?"

Shaking his head in disgust, Jeff turned to look out of the window. "I'm gonna pretend like you didn't just ask me that."

"I'm gonna take that as a no." Scoffing, Randy shook his head and concentrated on the dark, rain slicked road in front of him. "That's fucked up."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Shrugging Randy curled up his lips to try to stop his smile. Jeff wasn't the only one who could talk shit. "I'm just sayin'…y'all been together for a minute. I dunno know…" He offered a slight shrug and tried to look as innocent as possible. "That shit was good. You might wanna try it out for yourself."

"Shut up, Orton." He knew what Randy was doing and he knew better than to fall for it. But Randy had a way of being a prick that just couldn't be ignored. He wasn't being malicious, but still, he was being Randy and sometimes that was just as bad.

Glancing over to take in Jeff's expression, Randy knitted his brows. "Well it was, shit. What the fuck you waiting for?"

Having this conversation was going to be a bad idea. But with two hours left riding together, Jeff knew Randy wasn't going to drop it. "If you must know, I'm waiting until the time is right."

Randy looked at Jeff in utter disbelief. He couldn't believe that after months of dating Avery, he was still waiting for the right time. "What the fuck does that mean? Anytime your dick gets hard, it's the right fucking time." It wasn't like Randy was a dog, but abstinence wasn't something he believed in. What was the point? He knew Jeff and he knew Avery; there was no reason for them not to be getting down. "It ain't like she's virtuous or some shit. I fucked her after, what, two hours?"

"If you keep talking about that, I'm gonna punch you in your fucking mouth."

Randy's lips formed his trademark smirk as he made it a point to look out the front window. "Does it bother you that I fucked your girl?"

"Only when you bring it up." Jeff wasn't the jealous type, but Randy was Randy. He had roomed with Randy before and there was no telling what in the hell he and Avery did in that hotel room that night. "Does it bother you that Cena fucked yours?"

Shaking his head, Randy dismissed the question. "Nah. It's like a trade off. I fucked her friend, she fucked mine. I ain't mad."

"It ain't like I don't want to. _Believe me_, I do. But shit…I wanna make sure she knows that ain't all I want." Cocking his head to glance at Randy, Jeff couldn't help but to throw in a cheap shot. "I wanna make sure she knows I ain't nothing like _you_. I want her to feel wanted, not like I just want that."

Randy was convinced that Jeff was turning into a fucking chick, right there in the truck. He was putting a stop to that bullshit, with the quickness. "What the fuck are you talking about? You want her to know she's wanted? Bend her ass over when you walk in the door. Don't give her time to say shit…just fucking do it. She'll know you fucking want her."

The sad part was Jeff knew that Randy meant every word of it. "Why in the hell is Parker with you? She's so sweet and smart…what the fuck does she possibly see in your ass?"

"She's with me because I keep her dicked down. She knows I got the good shit. What the fuck you think she's getting when I walk in the door? We'll have plenty of time to talk later, but some things need to be taken care of first. She knows the deal."

Rolling his eyes and letting out a frustrated grunt, Jeff tried to think of how to explain it. "I just want it to be more than that. I want her to feel like it's special."

"That shit _is_ special. It's special dick. It's that, 'I ain't seen you in a minute', fuck. That's some special shit." Jeff was ruining it for men everywhere. Special did not have to involve flowers and shit like that. Why didn't he understand that? "Hand holding and all that bullshit is fine, when you're on a fucking Summer's Eve commercial. But in real life, you want your girl to know she's special, just fucking take her. Sometimes, they want romance and other times, they just want a man to be a fucking man. I ain't saying that other shit don't have a place, but it ain't all there is. A good, hard fuck works just as well as fucking sonnet."

Why was Jeff friends with Randy? They were on completely opposite sides of the spectrum. Randy was a decent person, but he had a tendency to act on impulse and not think things through. It worked for Randy, but Jeff wasn't that type of guy. He was a man that lived in his own head. He was conscious and considerate, he was thoughtful and introspective. But Jeff was also a dreamer and often had this unrealistic idealistic outlook on life. To him, things were simple; there was a way to approach everything. And right now, Randy's approach was just fucking wrong. "You sound like Jack the fucking Ripper."

"I ain't trying to take nothing that nobody ain't trying to give me." If it was one thing Randy knew, it was women. He held them in the utmost regard and respected the hell out of them. But, he was also a firm believer that a man was only going to do what a woman allowed him to do. And as long as Parker allowed him to put it her, he was more than happy to accommodate. He was just trying to help his friend out. Jeff too, should be enjoying as much ass as possible. All he had to do was to pick up what Randy was putting down. "It's like this; Avery's the kind of chick that's use to getting laid. You ain't laying the pipe, she's getting antsy. Taking your time and all that shit, works with some chicks. Not your girl."

"But the moment…"

"Fuck the moment! Make your own fucking moment. You passed up how many, already? Shit man, you got three days..._three _fucking days and then you ain't gonna see her again, until when? Would you rather spend your time off doing what you want, or sitting there looking at her ass with fucking blue balls?" He knew no matter how he tried, he wouldn't be able to convey it. It made sense to him, and though Jeff could be a wild boy, when Jeff felt like he was doing the right thing, there wasn't much that could change his mind. "You need to stop being a fucking pussy, and tell that girl that you want her. Cause I'll tell you like this… The longer you wait, the longer you're holding open the door for a motherfucker like me, to walk right through it. And believe me, dudes like me, don't pussyfoot around it. We see that a chick's frustrated, we're right there with a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on and a rock hard cock."

He had a point, Jeff couldn't deny it. And it wasn't that Jeff had never gone after someone he wanted before, but Avery was different. She might've had that tough girl exterior, but she was because she was insecure as hell on the inside. She had everything going for her. She was smart, beautiful, fun, funny, but somehow for Avery, that wasn't enough. She was use to being a one night stand. She was use to being used and she constantly allowed it, because she just wanted someone to want _her, _not for what she could give them, but just for the person she was. Jeff wanted to be that person for her, but at the expense of their new relationship, he wasn't so sure. "She talked to Parker about it?"

"You know how chicks are."

"What'd she say?" Jeff really didn't want to hear the answer. Was he really causing Avery that much stress? Here all he wanted was to show her that he was different than the type of guy she normally dated. He wanted to show her that he'd wait as long as she wanted and that sex wasn't a big deal to him. He was convinced he was doing the right thing. But if she was talking to her best friend about it, then perhaps it was a big deal to _her_.

He might as well come clean. He was going to get his ass chewed out for saying something anyway. Randy let out a sigh and turned his head in Jeff's direction. "That she thinks there's something wrong with her because you don't want her."

"That's bullshit!" Why would she think that? Had he done something to make her believe there was something wrong with her? She had enough insecurity about her weight and her chest size and here Jeff was adding to the problem. "That's not the reason."

"You know that. I think you're a fucking pussy, personally. But that's what your girl thinks. Just talk to her. Tell her what's up."

This was supposed to be three days with Avery, hanging out and having fun. Now Jeff was going to have to have a serious talk with her and find a way to do it without incriminating Randy and Parker. And to top it off, he was now taking relationship advice from Randy Orton. The world was definitely coming to an end. Shit. "I'll talk to her about it. We only got three days together. I ain't saying it's gonna happen, but if it does, I'll explain why I've been waiting."

"Shit…three days? Parker'll be lucky if she can fucking walk by the time I leave." So it was written, so it shall be done. Randy was a man with a plan and if Jeff and Avery never got down, he didn't give a rat's ass. He knew that when he got to his girl's house, that shit was on. It didn't matter what anybody thought about them being together, or about how Parker felt about her weight. Randy's way to show her she special worked for them. He wanted it, she wanted it and neither of them would expect or accept anything less.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: In defense of my Randy character…it appears that some people think he's a little harsh, brash, or what have you. If you read the first story, he was always like that. He was cocky and opinionated...nothing has changed. I wrote the character as a guy that was out to get ass…that's it. He admitted that he goes after ass, other characters talked about some of the foul shit he's done in the past, yet people were surprised. It shocked me that some people were unhappy with his comments to Jeff. That's who this guy is. But just because he's a guy that's all about sex, doesn't mean that he doesn't have a conscience. It's still amazing to me how many people took to his character, when he was just trying to get laid. Was it because it was a fat girl's skirt he was chasing that he became endearing? Now I will say this; Randy's a lot different around his girl then he is around his boys. He knows when to tone it down; he's not stupid._

_As we move forward, you may see a side of these characters that you didn't think they had, or weren't in the first story. Neither Randy, Jeff nor Avery really talked much on their own nor did I go inside their heads; all three characters reacted to Parker. Well since they've all become central characters, I'm feeling them out and developing them as individuals. _

_Again, I ask that you **trust me**. As the story progresses things start to change...I hope that you will trust me enough to get you through it._

_Thanks for the support...you guys rock!_

* * *

If there was one thing Parker Sutton hated, it was for someone to constantly bang on her door. Not only was it just plain rude and showed the person's arrogance and impatience, but it also meant that whoever was on the outside was going to get their ass cussed out when she got to it. It also didn't help that she had just drifted off to sleep. Her pillows were strategically placed at the foot of her bed to help get some circulation back into her feet. The window in her bedroom was cracked, letting the damp breeze from outside drop the temperature to just above the hibernation level. It was perfect…and then the damn banging started.

She couldn't get mad. She knew, on the other side of the door, was the man that she had been waiting for over a month to see. But as much as she missed him, did he really have to bang on her door to the beat of Frank Ski's version of Doo-Doo Brown? Granted, the song had one of the best beats ever created, but at one in the morning, she was less than impressed.

Dragging her sore body from the bed, Parker didn't bother to put on any pants. Her grey Old Navy t-shirt, which she converted into a night shirt because it was long, served as pajamas. It didn't cover much, just stopping in the middle of her thighs in the front, but just under her ass in the back. That was one of the wonderful things about being overweight: clothes didn't fit the same on different parts of her body. Being a big girl, she was also graced with a big ass, but as long as she didn't bend over with that shirt on, it was all good.

Parker limped slowly on swollen feet that she swore had lost all feeling, toward the door. She stepped carefully on the balls of her feet to try to give her heels a break, feeling the pain shoot through her calves with each step she took. When she reached the door, she pulled it open and narrowed her eyes. "Who in the hell taught you how to knock?"

Randy Orton took a second to let his eyes sweep over Parker's body. She looked the same as the last time he saw her, minus the disheveled hair. She was still small and round, and absolutely beautiful. He didn't respond. Instead, he took two steps forward and leaned down, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her. He didn't care that he was standing in the threshold of her apartment, or that they hadn't closed the door. If one of her neighbors happened to walk down the hall at that moment, they would've seen him running his hands up the back of her legs and under her shirt to check if she was wearing underwear. He really didn't give a fuck. That was one of the things Parker adored about Randy, he treated her the same no matter if they were in public or behind closed doors. They were seeing each other and he really didn't seem to mind who knew it.

Pulling back to breathe, Randy smiled at Parker. He planted several more kisses on her lips and dropped his bag on the floor. "I gotta take a leak."

Parker watched as Randy walked toward the bathroom. His muscular build filled out every inch of his t-shirt and blue jeans. Even fully dressed, she could see how cut and defined he was. He didn't have an ounce of fat on him. Unlike her, who seriously doubted she had any lean muscle left. Parker and Randy were like Jack Sprat. He could eat no fat, she could eat no lean. But betwixt the both of them, they licked the platter clean. The thought of the nursery rhyme made her shake her head.

She dragged his bag into her apartment and clicked the locks. From where she stood, she could see him standing above the toilet, with his pants lowered around his flat ass. It was one of the few downsides to this incredibly attractive man that graced her bathroom. But, it was a small price to pay for the rest of his body. Not she minded; she was sure he could list a number of things to comment about on her. "You could close the door."

"Or you could come in here and get a better view." He flushed the toilet and pulled his t-shirt over his head before washing his hands. He meant every word he had said to Jeff. There wouldn't be any serious conversations, not right away. In the bathroom on the middle of the floor laid his clothes, as he quickly shed them for what was to come. And as soon as he stepped out into her living room, he raised his brow. "Why ain't you naked yet?"

"Huh?"

Explaining himself would have taken too much time. Instead, Randy made his way over to Parker and pulled the shirt up over her head. "I ain't bullshitting. We got things to do." He loved the way her soft flesh felt against his hard muscle. So what if she was squishy? He actually liked that feeling. The extra pounds that she carried just meant there was more of her to squeeze. In a matter of seconds, he had transformed into an octopus, with hands that were everywhere all at the same time. There was so much of her feel, and truthfully, he couldn't get enough. He missed Parker and showing her how much meant more than telling her ever would.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Parker's lips were soft against his before he trailed off to whisper in her ear. Trying to steady his breath enough to actually form a coherent sentence, Randy's words came out in a grunt. "You like that?"

She couldn't speak, not when he was moving like that. If there was one thing about Randy that Parker could count on, it was that Randy knew exactly what to do to make all the stress of life go away. Instead of telling him what she was feeling, she answered with a moan.

"Tell me you like it."

He always did that to her. He just had a way with words. She had never been with a man that talked more during sex in her life. And truthfully, it turned her on to no end. "You know I like it."

He could feel the goose bumps on the back of his neck, and the feeling of her fingers massaging his back didn't help him any. He had taken care of her already and was hoping to do it again before he ended. But some things couldn't be stopped and giving himself over to pleasure was one of them. Collapsing on top of her, Randy took a minute to catch his breath. She was still running her fingers up his back. He would never get himself together if she didn't stop. Rolling over to his side, he wedged his head in the bend of her neck. "Damn girl. Shit." He laid there completely still, letting the ceiling fan cool his sweaty body. He couldn't stop the chuckle that came from him. It always happened like this.

Parker was really close to drifting off. It had been an extremely long day and this was perfect ending to it. "What's so funny?"

"I'm hungry." Kissing her shoulder, Randy let his arm come around her body. "Don't you wanna fix me a sandwich?"

Apparently Randy's brains had seeped out with his orgasm. She couldn't walk on her sore legs if her life depended on it. Paying him no attention, Parker closed her eyes and settled on her side. "No. Fix it yourself. I'm tired."

"Fine." Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Randy sat up and looked back at Parker. "You want something?" He watched as she shook her head and made his naked way to the kitchen.

She couldn't have been asleep for more than five minutes before Randy was back in the room, talking to her. Hadn't he been up driving all night? Listening to him talk about whatever he was he talking about was annoying enough, but listening to him chew while he did it was even more so. Randy was truly rough around the edges. He meant well, he really did, but he was such a boy sometimes that it was amusing.

Stuffing the last of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich in his mouth, Randy dusted the crumbs off of his hands before sitting back on the bed. "Okay, tell me where it hurts."

"My legs and my feet," she managed to say through the muffled sound of her face on the pillow. She let out a sigh as soon as she felt his hands work their magic. He used his thumbs to deeply massage the bunched muscles in her calf before working his way down to her foot. Gently gripping her heel in his hand, he paid particular attention to her arch and getting the circulation back to her toes. "So what time is this thing tomorrow?"

"Three-thirty." She couldn't help but to whine, his hands felt heavenly. She didn't want to think about tomorrow or anything else, only what his hands were doing to her feet. "Just so you know, my mom told everyone that I was bringing my _boyfriend._"

Randy continued his massage and thought about what that title entailed. He'd never been a _boyfriend_ before, but it could have been much different than being a…whatever he was to Parker. "So what's wrong with that?"

"Besides the fact that you aren't? Nothing."

He couldn't believe he was about to have this conversation. He had never in his life wanted to be in a relationship. There was just too much ass out there to be tied down. But somehow, he didn't mind so much right now. "Well what would you call me, then? I mean, what are we doing?"

"We're having fun." She wasn't about to go there with him. No matter what she wanted, there was too much involved to be involved. "We're hanging out. It's light; no strings attached. It's whatever."

"But I'm saying, what's so different about what we're doing than being in a relationship? I mean, we talk all the time, we visit, hang out…I'm puttin' it to you. What's the difference?" He wasn't trying to be a smart ass, he just didn't understand. Randy wasn't the type to come out and say that he wanted to move forward. He had this thing about being shot down, it was one of the reasons he never put himself out there. Granted, he had never been turned down, but he wasn't about to ruin his perfect track record, either.

It was entirely too late and she was too tired to go into this. But knowing Randy, like she did, he wouldn't stop talking until she answered him. "I dunno. It's not like I have a lot experience or anything. Fat girls like me don't exactly have guys beating down the door to get to us. I've never had a boyfriend before. But judging from what I've seen, I guess, in relationships, you establish some boundaries, expectations? Set some rules? No screwing around being the main one."

"Well I ain't digging in nothin' else…"

"Randy," She whined, "can we please talk about this in the morning? I'm tired."

Why was she avoiding the topic? Randy placed her leg on his lap and looked at her. "You letting somebody else get all up in there?" Was she sleeping with someone else? Was that the reason that she didn't want to be with him? He didn't have a lot of time, but he made it a point to spend what little he did have with her. Was it enough? Was he too vulgar to be around her family and friends? Did his reputation make him undesirable? He was Randy Orton. Who says no to that?

"No, Randy. It just…" How could she put it into words that he would understand? To Randy, there was nothing wrong with her. But to the rest of the world, a guy like him should never be with a girl like her. She wasn't society's picture of desirable. "Look at me. This is what I look like. I'm a sexy as hell, we both know this. But you could draw a picture if you connected my stretch marks. I have a belly, and rolls and dimples. I don't look like the girls you work with; I can never look like them. Are you okay with that? It's fine for a few of your friends to know that we mess with each other. But for everyone to know that we're in a relationship? Can you handle that? Before you answer, you need to ask yourself, is this really what you wanna come home to?"

That was the stupidest excuse for not being in a relationship with him that he had ever heard. If she didn't want him, that's all she had to say. It still didn't make sense to him. How many times did he have to tell her she was perfect to him? Crawling up her body, he shimmied his waist between her legs. He rested his weight on his elbows and gently ran his thumb over the temple. "Pooh, I been coming home to you. I don't give a fuck what people think. Can _you_ handle that?" He regarded the thoughtful way she chewed her lip. "I like what we got going. And I'm not promising that I'm gonna be a good boyfriend. I've never been one before. I was always chasing ass, but I'm liking this one. If you wanna take this thing to the next level, I'm down."

She could kiss him forever, and normally, she wouldn't mind the way his waist was wiggling. "Oh, no. Not again. I'm tired. I've been up for over twenty-four hours. I need to sleep."

"So go to sleep. I don't need you awake for this." Gently, moving his mouth down to her breasts, he looked up at her. "Me and the girls will be just fine by ourselves."

Why she even bothered to try to resist him was beyond her. As soon as his warm mouth closed down around her breast, she knew what was up. It no longer mattered how tired she was; Parker Sutton was going to make love to her new _boyfriend_ and not even fatigue was going to stop that.


	4. Chapter 4

Avery Brooks had been considered many things in her life. People classified her as a slut, a tramp, a bimbo, a good friend, loyal, protective, loud, scrappy…a hood rat. But no one had ever mistaken Avery for patient. It was amazing that she had held out on sleeping with Jeff for three months. She was sure it was a miracle. With any other guy, she would have cut his ass off a long time ago, chalked him up as gay, and moved on. But there was something about Jeff that was different.

Jeff Hardy wasn't the type of guy that Avery normally went for. Sure, he was beautiful and sweet, but nice guys like him were never really interested in her. Somehow, she always ended with the biggest asshole in the lot. She typically attracted guys that were only out to get her in bed. They'd sweet talk her, prey on her insecurities, and somehow convince her that they wanted more from her than just sex. As soon as she would give in, she'd be lucky if the guy even bothered to stay the night after he got laid. She had a reputation that followed her everywhere. It was the reason that she no longer frequented certain bars in Fells Point; almost everyone there knew her and the majority of them weren't familiar by word of mouth, but by first hand experience. Guys only saw Avery as a piece of ass.

And then she met Jeff.

What started off as a crush at a table while hooking up with Randy Orton, turned into something amazing. Her feelings for him increased tenfold after spending that night with him and he didn't make a move. But, it wasn't until Avery had gone to Puerto Rico with Parker, that things with Jeff seemed to move forward. They went from talking on the phone, to Jeff coming to Baltimore for the day to visit her, and that somehow turned into making out on several occasions. It wasn't until the day that Avery told him she had a date that Jeff decided to lay down the Hardy rules. Needless to say, that "Avery dating other people" shit was nipped in the butt. He told her straight up that he was interested in her and they couldn't move forward if she was still dating other men. She asked if that meant they were _together_ and he made it quite clear that he thought it was obvious.

And while Avery found it charming that Jeff was a gentleman, that shit was irritating as all hell, now. It was all fine and dandy when they were still getting to know each other, but shit… when the fuck was it going to end? She had spent time at his house and he at hers. She'd even visited him on the road a few times…they slept next to each other in the same bed, and nothing. This bullshit was coming to an end, or Jeff Hardy was.

But she couldn't do that to him. Jeff was a sweetheart. He was the guy that everyone went to when they had a problem. Not that Jeff was this great listener or anything, he was just really calm and thoughtful. He wasn't known to say things to hurt other people, he always tried to play devil's advocate, and he shed light on situations by viewing them from a different perspective. Granted, Jeff had his own amount of shit with him; namely, he tried not to draw attention to himself, because he was often zoning. Maybe the reason that he was such a good person to talk to was because, when you were talking to Jeff, Jeff was often in his own world. He would take out the key parts of the conversation and sum it up in his head. Then while people felt the need for insistent rambling, he could go inside the recess of his mind and do whatever the hell else he was doing. That's one of the things he liked about Avery. She didn't ramble. She said exactly what was on her mind.

And if this shit wasn't jumping off tonight, Jeff was going to hear _exactly_ what was on Avery's mind. There would be no rambling involved.

Wearing boy shorts and the most miraculous of miracle bras to give her cleavage from somewhere, Avery made her way to the bed. She made sure to walk with her chest poking out, not because the bra was two sizes too small and cutting off her circulation and she was sure that the cleavage she was sporting was really a result of the skin from her back that was being pulled to her chest in the most ungodly of fashions, but because she wanted it to appear to Jeff that she was actually working with something. She had successfully created enough of an illusion that he shouldn't be turned off that his chest was bigger than hers.

She was an attractive girl, standing at five foot nine, with big blue eyes and long auburn hair and was incredibly petite. For Avery's height, she was only one hundred and ten pounds, and the weight seemed to be dropping off faster everyday. But even with her incredibly small waist and flat stomach and super slender build, Avery's biggest problem with her self was her chest size. She knew she was sexy, but her breasts hadn't gotten the memo. They started growing at age fourteen and two weeks later, they stopped. Despite how small her chest was, it had never stopped her from getting laid before. But then again, it was never with Jeff Hardy.

Jeff knitted his brows as he watched Avery stalk toward the bed. It was obvious what she had in mind, but he wanted to talk to her about it first. How exactly he was going to bring it up, he wasn't quite sure. But as luck would have it, Avery didn't give him a chance. She literally jumped on him and started to kiss him.

It was a shame really, having to take matters into her own hands. She always preferred for the guy to be the aggressor. However, dealing with Jeff, her ovaries were destined to shrivel up and fall out before he ever tried anything. Looming over him on all fours, Avery continued to kiss him while letting her hand travel down to the buckle on his pants.

"Avery…" This conversation had to happen. He couldn't let it get any further until he explained to her that she didn't need to go all porn-star on him. He wanted her to know that he did want her but he was just taking his time because he actually wanted to build something with her. "We need to talk." He managed to get the words out in between kisses.

"Fuck talking. We'll talk later." She wasn't letting him get distracted. She could feel how hard he was through his jeans. It was a good sign, she didn't totally repulse him. Now if she could just get him to shut up, things would progress nicely.

Jeff Hardy was a patient man, but he was also determined. He wasn't the type to easily be swayed, even if there was a beautiful half-naked woman trying desperately to take advantage of him. Feeling her hand go inside of his jeans, Jeff pulled back her arm and forced to her to look at him. "Avery, stop. I wanna talk to you."

Frustration? Anger? She wasn't quite sure, all she knew was this was bullshit. "Jeff, you are killing me. Abso-fuckin'-lutely killing me. What's the problem? You know what…fuck it." Rolling herself over to her side, she turned her back to him. "Do you need to call Randy, or do you have a ride? Because if you ain't putting out, you gotta get out." She meant what she said to Parker, if Jeff didn't give it up, she was shipping his ass to Parker's apartment.

It was like clockwork, knowing when she was going to blow up. Avery got mad for two reasons. Either it was in defense of someone she cared about, or when she felt really insecure. Judging from the display of her anger, Jeff guessed it was the latter. He couldn't help but to laugh. She was so spirited and she didn't really care who it was directed at. "Avery look at me."

"You need to be finding out what time the bus comes and I don't have the damn bus schedule on my forehead." She laid there for a minute, then she turned around and looked him in the eye. "Why don't you want me? Is it my tits…what?"

"What are talking about? I _do_ want you, it's just… I was trying to be respectful. I know how things have gone for you in the past, and I don't want you to ever think that I'm like that." Most women would have thought that he was sweet, but the look on her face said otherwise.

The way she curled up her lips and batted her lashes at him told him that she didn't believe a damn thing that was coming out of his mouth. "That's about the stupidest fucking bullshit I done ever heard. Respect is a few weeks…this is fucking torture. It's been months, Jeff. Fucking months. I'm glad you respect me, but fuck respect. I wanna be a skank bitch right now. Can you respect that?"

He shook his head at her logic. He could understand why she was frustrated, but not why she didn't understand his motives. "We don't see each other that much. With us, months only equal a handful of dates, Avery. I just wanted to make sure you knew how I felt about you before we went any further."

"I know how you feel _about_ me. I wanna know how you feel _inside_ me." Shaking her head, she looked at the ceiling. "I don't believe this shit."

This conversation wasn't going anywhere and Jeff really wasn't the type to argue. He had tried to play it cool, but she wasn't having any of that. Maybe Randy was right; the way to get through to Avery wasn't to tell her, but to show her. So, in the most respectable way he could think of, Jeff kissed Avery and covered her body with his.

_Now that's what I'm talking about._ Avery responded immediately, enjoying the feel of his tongue running down her neck. She couldn't stop the gasp that came from her mouth when Jeff unhooked her bra. It wasn't because she was so aroused by him uncovering her body. It was because that tight-ass bra was cutting off her circulation and she gasped because she could finally breathe. But now came the moment of truth. Vertically, Avery had a small chest, but it was visible that she was a woman. Horizontally, she looked like an adolescent boy. Lying down, her boobs completely disappeared, leaving her totally flat. That was another reason that she liked to be on top.

Jeff didn't seem to notice. He wanted to take his time and show her that he was extremely attracted to her, and the months of waiting had taken its toll on him too. If she thought it was bad waiting that damn long, how did she think he felt? Night after night, he usually had an onslaught of women offering to spend the night with him. And it's not that he wasn't tempted a time or two; it was something that, before Avery, he had done. Jeff was a decent guy, but above all else, Jeff Hardy was a _man_ – just so there was no mistake about that.

Avery's hips bucked almost immediately when Jeff's head found its way between her thighs. It took everything she had not to hold his head down and smother him; it had been that damn long. Judging by how sweet Jeff was, she didn't quite expect him to get down like that. But the boy had skills, so she wasn't complaining. She tried to play it cool, like she was proving a point, but after a few seconds, her resolve broke down. She had no choice but to let the creases of frustration on her forehead subside as she closed her eyes.

On any other day, Jeff would have liked to have actually finished what he started. But he didn't think he could hold out much longer. He'd have to make it up to her later. As he made his way back up her body, he took a moment to look in her eyes. "You sure you wanna do this?" He knew that would piss her off and he couldn't stop smiling about it.

"Look at my face, Jeff. Do I look I'm bullshitting to you?"

Staring off slow, he could hear himself release the low rumble in his chest when he was fully sheathed. He figured it would begin gently and he would gradually work his way up. Avery talked a good game, but he didn't know if she was really as out there as she claimed. If he really wanted to know, he could've asked Randy, but there was no way in hell he was doing that. It would've been his luck that Randy would have told him, in true Randy fashion, and then Jeff would've been forced to whip Randy's ass. No, slow was fine, coupled with a lot of kissing and touching. At least Avery could feel what he had been trying to tell her.

Unfortunately, Avery wasn't feeling the same thing Jeff was. That slow, romantic, love making was fine on special occasions, but for what she wanted, he was going to have pick up the pace or move over so she could take the wheel. She was sure there was a polite way to say it, but every now and then, he would move a certain way and her brain would go numb. There was only one way to handle this situation. Avery's hands made their way up Jeff arms and rested on either side of his head. Holding his head in place and forcing him to look at her, she spoke in an almost possessed voice. "Jeffrey. Fuck. Me."

Jeff stopped and looked at her confused. It could've been an embarrassing situation, but it was the first time they'd been together. That first time is usually awkward. He never wanted to cross the line, because that would probably mean not getting to tap again. And what was the sense in that? "Yeah?"

Nodding, she wrapped her legs around his waist and prepared for what she hoped was going to be the rodeo ride of her life. "Oh yeah."

That was all the invitation that he needed. The nice, quiet, polite, thoughtful Jeff Hardy went the hell away. And the out-there, aggressive, sexually-frustrated Jeff Hardy took over. For months, he had been imagining what it would be like and he'd be damned if he was going to skip anything. Avery definitely lived up to her self-promoted hype. "Get on your knees." It wasn't a gentle request, that's for damn sure.

With a wide smile, she raised her eyes to him. "Yes, sir." She had never seen Jeff be aggressive before. It was more attractive than she could have imagined. And that look on his face showed that he was dead serious in his request.

It didn't take long before he had her screaming out for various deities. It was definitely one of the plus sides to having everyone think he could do no wrong. Jeff Hardy could put it down and knew, no matter what partner he had, they were pleasantly surprised.

Laying next to each other, still trying to catch their collective breaths, Avery slapped Jeff on the arm. "You asshole. Why did it take you so long to do that? How dare you deprive me?"

With a lazy smile, Jeff closed his eyes. "I was trying to a gentleman. I liked the idea of taking my time."

"Don't ever take your time again. Do it just like that, always. Just like that."

Closing his arm around her after her head found its way on his chest, Jeff kissed her hair. "So you like it like that?"

Nodding against the feel of his still racing heart, Avery tried to will her legs to move again. "I like it all kinds of ways. And in the morning, I'm gonna show you one of the things I really like."

The effects of the long day, the drive, and finally being with Avery were taking effect on Jeff. His eyes wouldn't reopen if they tried. He exhaled deeply before giving into sleep. "I look forward to it."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: This is for Kendra because you keep whining and you damn near twisted my arm to post this before I was going to._

* * *

The constant sound of a car alarm pulled Parker out of one of the best sleeps she had enjoyed in a very long time. Lifting her head off of the pillow, she grabbed at the hair that had fallen into her face and struggled to look at the clock. Already after noon, she knew that she would need to start getting ready if she and Randy were to be at her father's school by three-thirty.

As Parker sat up on the bed, she looked over at a sleeping Randy Orton. His extremely long body was sprawled out, taking more than half of the bed. That was one thing about sleeping with him; he didn't seem to realize that someone else was there. Apparently his long legs needed room and if that meant they ended up over top of hers, thrown over her hip or anywhere else, that's how she would be forced to sleep for the night. She didn't mind, though. Randy was warm and no matter what his legs were doing, his arm was always protectively draped over her.

No matter how many times she looked at his body, it was still hard to believe that a man like that was involved with her. Not that Parker didn't have a body in her own right. It was just that Parker's body was more of a fetish type than something that a guy that looked like Randy would be into. The way the blankets were strategically placed on Randy's body, only one leg was covered. The other, was bent, so that his left foot was touching his right calf. The power that he had in his thighs alone made Parker look down at hers. There was no muscle in her thighs that she could see, only fat. And as big as Randy's thighs were, she was amazed that hers were bigger.

She moved her eyes up to his muscular torso when he threw his arm behind over his head and under the pillow. Even sleeping, the man looked like he was posing for a centerfold. Parker's stomach didn't sink in the way that Randy's did, even when she was laying down. And sitting up? That made it worse. Her stomach seemed to extend when she was in a seated position and rested comfortably on the top of her thighs, creating the potential for sweating.

That was another thing about being overweight. With skin covering skin in certain areas, the body started to sweat and, without the proper ventilation, sweaty areas to held odor. Randy could never understand that. When he wanted her, he wanted her. But after a night of dancing at a club or what have you, she just couldn't be all ready to go. No. She had to shower first, because the last thing she wanted to do was smell like his gym bag. Who the hell sweats at their waistline and under their tits? Parker Sutton, that's who.

Despite the incredible differences in their bodies, Parker was comfortable with who she was. She was fabulous, beautiful, smart and sexy as hell. And every time she saw Randy, he let her know that. He didn't mind the extra flesh, or the discoloration on some parts of her body; he acted like her rolls and dimples weren't there. He had to have seen them, but he never commented. She didn't have time to dwell on it. They had things to do and she needed to start getting ready.

While showering, Parker replayed the last few months with Randy over in her head. She couldn't believe that he was now her _boyfriend. _How in the hell did that happen? She wasn't even supposed to like him; he was Avery's man. But it was his honesty that she found attractive. Sure Randy could be blunt, but at least there weren't any head games with him. Unlike John Cena, who at one point in time, she believed was the greatest thing since sliced bread. To think, she almost overlooked a decent guy because of his cocky, conceited attitude and settled for the guy that seemed polite; which in the end, turned out to be a phallic symbol. The world was funny that way.

But it worked out. Randy had proven to her time and time again that he liked her and wanted to be with her. Finally she had found someone who knew that she was just as much of a supermodel that she claimed to be. And he treated her like she was nothing short of fabulous. Not that he doted on her, or bombarded her with flowers or anything like that. But he took the time to talk to her, laugh with her, hold her hand when they walked, or drape his arm over her. He kissed her in restaurants, and would be seen in public with her. Randy was nothing like the other guys she had messed around with before. She wasn't his secret fat chick on the side. She was his Pooh Bear and she actually liked that feeling.

Stepping out of the shower, Parker dressed in a t-shirt and shorts until she had time to go through her closet and find something suitable to wear. There were only two people that ever saw her in shorts, Avery and Randy; Avery because she was Avery, and Randy because normally he was in her apartment and she paid the bills there. But wearing shorts outside was strictly forbidden. Parker may have been comfortable with her body, but she wasn't fucking stupid. Just because things were made in her size, didn't mean she needed to wear them. Shorts were one such item. For a woman with her build, shorts did that horrible riding up the middle thing. Because her thighs rubbed together when she walked, inevitably, the shorts would get wedged in her crotch at the inseam while the rest of the garment hung like it should. Who in the hell wants to constantly pull their clothing out of their cooter after every ten steps? It was too much of a hassle.

As she made her way back to her bedroom, she noticed that Randy had again shifted on the bed. Finding a spot to sit would be difficult. He had successfully kicked all of the covers off of him and was literally stretched from pillow to post, completely filling the queen sized bed. She flung his arm over to his chest and sat herself on a corner and reached over to grab the lotion. Her actions were stopped however, when she felt two strong arms grip her around the waist and pull her down. She landed in an uncomfortable manner on Randy, but he scooted around until she was lying on top of him. He didn't say anything. He just held her there and closed his eyes again, like he needed that to fall back asleep.

When Randy would lay on her, Parker had no problem with it. But when it was the other way around, she couldn't help but to feel a little uncomfortable. Plus, the fact that he appeared to have fallen asleep with her in a vice grip, meant that Parker was going to have to lay there until he woke up again. Fuck that. They had things to do.

Randy felt Parker attempt to move and opened his eyes. "Where are you going?" His voice was deep and thick with sleep, and his words came out in more of a grumble than anything. He righted her to the position on his body that he had her once before and buried his head deeper into the pillow.

Parker kissed his chin and rested herself on her elbows. "I don't want to crush you." She outweighed him by forty pounds. Having forty extra pounds of dead weight on him as he slept wouldn't be good for anyone.

Randy stretched his arms above his head, and then let them come down on her with a thump. "Quit with that shit, Parker." With a moan to signal that he was finally waking up, he let his hands trail up and down her arms and slowly opened his eyes. "Why do you always do that?" There weren't many things that irritated him about her, but the way she often made fun of her weight was definitely one of them. In his mind, there was no reason for her to put herself down, ever.

"I don't know. I just do." She looked at him with a big smile on her face. Lifting only his head, he afforded himself two quick kisses on her lips, before dropping it back down. "Your breath stinks."

"It should smell like you. You were the last thing I ate before I went to bed." With a smirk on his face, he licked his lips as if to savor her taste. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You looked tired." She rested her head on his chest and enjoyed the feeling of his fingers running through her hair. These were the moments that she liked best with Randy. He wasn't affectionate in the sense of romantic things, but he was as far as human contact. Randy was a touchy, feeling person. He liked to touch her and pretty much whenever he was around her, some part of his body was touching hers. It made her feel wanted and protected. And what made it that much nicer, was she doubted if he even realized he was doing it. "Besides, I needed to get some stuff done without you slowing me down."

Randy wrapped one arm around her to ensure that she wouldn't try to move again while the other hand absently petted her hair. It was too early, whatever time it was. He wasn't ready to get up yet, and as long as he kept her talking, she wouldn't make him. "You feel any better?"

"Yeah. My legs don't hurt as bad as they did and I think the circulation is back in my feet." It was a small price to pay for this amazing career that she had always dreamed about.

"Are they really that hard on you?" He looked into her eyes with concern. She used to talk about her internship with such affection. Now that tone was totally lost.

"No harder than they are on anyone else. It's just different now." She placed her hand on his chest and propped her chin on top of it. She could see how worried he was about her, but he wasn't the type to coddle. He would listen and offer advice, but he wouldn't harp. That wasn't his style. She liked that about him. He let her be her, without trying to change her. "My hours have increased. The cases are getting harder. I'm getting less supervision. I've been eating donuts and chips for the past month, all day long, because I'm too busy to sit down and eat real food. What I wouldn't give for a home-cooked meal."

"That ain't good for you." Another thing Randy would never do was tell Parker how to take care of herself. Hell, she was doctor. She probably knew more about healthy living than he did. But she was also an adult, and her decisions were own. "I can't do anything about that other stuff, but why don't you cook and just take your lunch with you?"

"When would I have time?" She didn't mean to raise her voice, she knew what he meant. But honestly, it was impossible. "When I come home, I sleep. When I have time off, I'm with you and _we're_ always asleep. I don't have time to cook."

"You want me to cook for you?"

A large smile crossed her face and her voice went up about three octaves. "You'd cook for me?"

With a nod, Randy shut his eyes again.

"It won't be that healthy shit you eat, will it?"

He liked the feel of her on him when he laughed. "That's all I know how to cook. You haven't had a meal until you've had my grilled chicken and spinach salad."

She curled up her lip at that menu. That was not the type of food that Parker enjoyed. "That sounds like it tastes like shit. I don't know…you eat that bread with nooks and crannies in it, too. Are you gonna serve that, too?"

"It's seven-grain bread. That's some good shit."

"I like white bread." This was why they either ate out or Parker cooked. Randy would afford himself cheating days when he was with her. He would never force his lifestyle on her. She, however, was not so open to new experiences.

"That's the unhealthiest shit on the planet. All those carbs… bleach wheat? Just eat a pound of sugar."

"But it tastes good." It was all about taste. Life was short. Why eat shit that tasted like it? But then again, he was going to offer to cook, how much did she have to complain about? It had to be better than Hostess and Tasteycake.

"Well, that's all I know how to cook. I can do grilled salmon, or veggie casserole…" He smiled at the disgusted face she made. "If I knew how to fry chicken, I would. You can take it or leave it."

"I'll make a deal with you. You cook for me, I'll eat it. No complaints." It wasn't much of a choice, but it was better than the vending machine. She could just see him now, in her kitchen; bare chest, with a little pink apron on and hot pants, being all domestic. It was actually rather arousing. "Now come on…you need to take a shower."

He still wasn't ready to get out of the bed, but there were definite possibilities if a shower was involved. "Take a shower with me?"

Was Randy on crack, for real? If she had one of those big, deluxe, tricked out showers like he had at his house, it would have been fine. But she lived in an apartment, with a shower in her bathtub. Even if he was taller than her, she was wider than he was. Inevitably, he would get stuck at the back of the tub, freezing cold because the water wouldn't make it to him. That's all she needed, him to catch pneumonia because of her fat ass. "Nope. I already took one."

"So? You didn't do it with me." There was more than one way to get what he wanted. If he couldn't sweet talk her into it, he would resort to kissing her into submission. "Come on." His silky whisper was followed by a deep kiss.

She wasn't doing it, even if his hands were trailing up her t-shirt. She could resist. She had willpower like that. "I need to do my hair and find something to wear. No." She rolled off of him and sat up on the bed.

He watched in disbelief as she grabbed the lotion from the night table and actually resisted his advances. Apparently, he was losing his touch. "Alright," he pouted, "but you're passing up the chance for steamy, hot, wet sex."

Parker looked at him over her shoulder and winked. "You should know… I'm _always_ hot and wet."

Randy took that as an open invitation. Sitting up himself, he wrapped his arms around her waist and started to nibble on her neck. "That's why you should take a shower with me." When she shook her head, he gave up. It wasn't exactly how he planned on spending his morning, in the shower…alone. But, she was right. They had things to do. "You owe me because I put that shit to you last night. You better hook me up." Kissing her again softly, Randy made his way to the bathroom. It was just one of three days with her, and if it killed him, tomorrow morning wouldn't end in her telling him no.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: This chapter is for Dawn and Nicole. Sometimes people don't know what the fuck to say out of their mouths. Keep your heads up ladies. _

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Loyola St. Ignatius Academy was a Jesuit middle school located in downtown Baltimore. Founded for the sole purposed of giving low income boys a chance at one of the best Catholic educations in the entire state of Maryland, the prestige of the school ranked among that of Boys Latin, St. Paul's, and Gilman. The only difference between St. Ignatius and those other schools was that the tuition was on a sliding scale, depending on the parent's income, and not set at between ten and nineteen thousand dollars like the others.

The work that the Fathers, Brothers, and Monks did at that school was amazing. It was no wonder that parents from economically depressed neighborhoods scrapped and scrounged to send their sons there. And it was no wonder that the faculty and staff of the school were grossly underpaid compared to their counterparts.

Parker Sutton's family was not rich; it could be argued they weren't even middle class. Upper lower class, or lower middle class…whichever, that's what they were. They never had money to throw around. Parker's family lived in a modest three bedroom, one bathroom row house in Highlandtown and were considered 'a family that had done good' in their neighborhood. For Highlandtown, having a family where both parents were married, still together, and both gainfully employed was something to write home about.

Highlandtown wasn't a snooty, upscale neighborhood like Roland Park, that's for damn sure. That was one of the reasons that Avery had such a hard time fitting in when she first moved there. It wasn't until Avery's father died and her mother couldn't afford the huge fancy house that she grew up in, that her family made the trek to the other side of town. She was considered snooty, because she went to a private school before. People around there all sent their kids to the local public schools. The area was extremely homogenous, only changing from what most of the city considered trailer trash, to upscale, during the gentrification that took place over the last five years. The people of Highlandtown, were blue collar workers; Bethlehem Steel, stevedores, and folks that used their bodies to make a living, were the norm. So imagine everyone's surprise, when a teacher and a secretary had a child that was going to become a doctor still called Highlandtown home.

Aaron Sutton, Parker's father, had been the Director of Music at St. Ignatius for over thirty years. No matter how much, or how little, he was paid…the severe cut backs to his department, or just the shear frustration of being the working poor with a family to support, Aaron Sutton never took a sick day, never complained, and did his job with passion. That was the reason for lavish reception for his retirement. Everyone who had been graced enough to know, work with, or be taught by Aaron Sutton, came back to thank him for his years of service and dedication.

And no matter how happy Parker was to be there to honor her father for the amazing job that he had done, she knew what this reception would entail. One of the downfalls of having her father work at the same school for thirty-five years, was everyone there knew her. Even if some of the teachers and or students no longer were affiliated with St. Ignatius, they all remembered Parker; the bubbly, smart, _fat_ daughter of their beloved Aaron.

Parker use to hate going to school with her father, mostly because of the comments she would always get. Aaron Sutton was a tall man, with an average build. He had a little bit of a belly, but he was almost sixty years old, most men his age had a little pot. But with Aaron's skinny legs and thin fingers, anyone could tell that he had never been grossly overweight. Parker, however, took after her mother. Sylvia Sutton wouldn't have been considered portly, but more like pleasantly plump. From the time of Parker's birth until now, she remained between a size fourteen and sixteen…and even at five foot five, she didn't look like obese. Even though her parents were smaller than her, you couldn't tell the Suttons, that Parker wasn't the reason the sun shined every morning. They were so proud of their beautiful daughter and they let everyone know it, constantly.

And although most people would be polite to her on her father's day, if one woman in particular showed, it all would be shot to shit.

"You alright?" Randy looked over at Parker as he made his way to the sidewalk. He looked so good in his grey slacks and cream colored button down shirt. It was nothing fancy, but, those few buttons exposing the top of his chest everyone could tell how clearly defined he was. It still didn't register to her that he was really with her. With John Cena, being with him for the night never felt right, but with Randy it was different. With Randy, Parker never felt out of place…other people made her feel out of place. _She _felt like she belonged with him, but she couldn't help but to wonder, if _he_ felt like he belonged with her.

Parker nodded and sighed. They only needed to stay for about an hour. Her parents knew how she felt about being there, but she was going to do it because she loved her dad that much.

Making their way to the courtyard, hand in hand, Parker and Randy smiled as soon as they heard Sylvia's voice bubble through the crowd. "There they are. Parker, Randy…come here, there's some people I want you to meet."

Parker mumbled under her breath and rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry. I tried to warn you."

"You're late. Your father already gave his speech and everything."

Pointing over her shoulder at Randy, Parker easily passed the blame along. It was true actually; it was his fault they were late. When she told him "no" she wasn't taking a shower with him, she meant it. She just didn't think that he would come out of the shower hell bent on getting her to aid him in subsiding his morning wood.

"Sylvia… are you gonna believe that?" Accepting a warm hug from Parker's mother, Randy turned on the charm and his best boyish smile. "And might I add that you are hot. You better be careful, I just may decide that I like older women."

With a deep blush on her cheeks, she looked down at herself. "Randy…are you flirting with me?"

"Is it working? Cause if not, I can try harder." Randy raised his brow and smiled. Not that he was into Parker's mother or anything, but she was an attractive woman and Parker had inherited her chest from her. Besides, that's who Randy was. He was a man that flirted non stop. No matter who he was talking to, if she had ovaries, Randy let her know that he would gladly try to tap them.

"Parker, you just missed Avery. She stopped by for a few minutes, but she told me to tell you that they would meet you two at six." Sylvia chuckled and turned toward the crowd. "Your father's other there. He's so excited that you could come."

As they made their way to where her father stood, surround by his colleagues, Parker and Randy were approached by some of the younger students. The boys had heard rumors that Mr. Sutton's daughter was dating a WWE Superstar and they were prepared with paper, magazines and markers in hand. Damn near pushing Parker out of the way to get to Randy, a small crowd formed around the man, complete with arms raised waving paper in his face.

With a sympathetic look, Randy raised his brow. Parker nodded, it was his job, she understood that. But she still couldn't help but to wish that he would be by her side when she faced the firing squad.

"There she is. What took you so long? I was starting to think you weren't gonna make it." Aaron put his arm around his daughter and kissed her cheek. "Everyone, you remember Parker."

"Sorry, I'm late. It's Randy's fault. He wanted to sleep all day." Hugging her father back, she turned toward his friends and smiled.

For about an hour, she stayed with her father and his friends remembering old times. Every once in awhile she would lock eyes with Randy who had been commandeered by her mother and introduced to every single one of her friends and Parker's family as "Parker's boyfriend, Randy." Parker almost felt sorry for him. Almost. But as soon as she happened to look to the left and noticed Ms. Lyles approaching her, she felt her heart drop and all of her pity was strictly reserved for herself.

"Dad…"

Aaron happened to look in the direction that Parker's head was turned and he completely understood. "If you leave, you gotta take me with you." He eyes got wider as the blue haired terrorist closed in on them. "Let's act like we don't see her."

Ms. Lyles was the math teacher that had worked with her father for years. She retired six years ago, and no one was sad to see her leave. She was one of those outspoken old people that said whatever was on her mind. She was opinionated and could be rude, but she said everything in a sing-song manner, as to sugar coat how cruel she could actually be. And she had never been easy on Parker, that's for damn sure.

"Margret." Aaron had a fake ass smile on his face, when he accepted her hug.

"Congratulations Aaron. It's nice to see that everyone turned out, even though music isn't a real subject." She looked around at the crowd and shrugged. "I saw Sylvia; you know that shade of lipstick is what those young girls wear. I can't believe you let her out of the house, with that on."

Parker tried to her best to scoot around her father and make a run for it, but before she had the chance, Ms. Lyles grabbed her hand. "Is this Parker? I haven't seen you since you were thirteen." Ms. Lyles stepped toward Parker and gave her a hug. "I see you still can't keep from eating everything that's put in front of you. You've gained so much weight." Her comment was directed at the tray of bacon scallops that floated past the group, to which Parker took a sample. She didn't say it in a facetious manner, more like an old woman that didn't know what the fuck to say out of her mouth.

"So did you." Parker replied with a smile, trying to fight the urge to spit the appetizer in her napkin to keep from being reprimanded. She always hated Ms. Lyles. When Parker was younger, that woman always reminded her that she was overweight. Even if she was only at her father's school to help out or to do things with the youth ministry, Ms. Lyles was right there, monitoring what Parker ate, criticizing her clothing, and constantly reminding her that she was too young to be that big. And somehow, ten years later, it didn't look like she had changed a bit.

Shooing Parker with her hand Ms. Lyles laughed. "Oh, but I'm old, honey. Worrying about my figure, I gave up on that a long time ago. But you're young. You need to do something about it now, before it's gets to hard to get it off."

Parker could feel her father squeeze her shoulder tighter. This wasn't the time or place to tell Ms. Lyles exactly how she felt about her or her rude comments. "Parker's a doctor now. She's in her first year rotation at Johns Hopkins." The unmistakable pride of a father came through in Aaron's words.

"Really? They let you be a doctor with that all that weight? Isn't it hard?" Ms. Lyles, God love her, at seventy-five, one would think she would know when to back off.

Parker kept smiling, while this woman continued to comment about her. Being polite was bullshit, but it was what was expected of her. "Being a doctor is hard. It's long hours, dealing with crabby, opinionated, _old_ people all day…But it's what I wanna do."

"Well you better be careful, honey. You're a young girl; you can't keep up with a doctor's lifestyle being that big." She reached for Parker's hand and held it affectionately. "Besides, it's gonna be hard to find a man to marry you. You could be a really cute girl if you just lost some weight. You really let yourself go."

Parker looked at her father for permission to be excused, before she said something really inappropriate to Ms. Lyles. "I appreciate your concern. But I'm very happy with myself and my weight."

"You can't be. Honey, you're as big as a house. Boys don't like fat girls."

And just like out of a romance novel, over walked Randy Orton. "Mr. Sutton. Congratulations." He shook Aaron's hand and glanced over at Parker. There was something wrong with her; he could see it in her eyes. He walked over to her and stood beside her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Parker looked at Ms. Lyles with a satisfied smirk on her face. "Ms. Lyles, this is Randy. Randy this is one of my dad's former colleagues, Ms. Lyles."

"Are you a friend of Parker's? Tell her that she could be so cute if she just exercised. I was just telling her that fine young men like yourself don't like girls that let themselves go like she's done. What is it those young folks say? 'Boys don't make passes at girls with fat asses…'" Turning her attention back to Parker she looked at the girl with sympathy.

Randy smirked and shook his head, for no other reason than this old lady with blue hair said the word, ass. "I do. I happen to like the way she looks."

Taking the liberty to lift Parker's shirt in the front, Ms. Lyles shook her head. "You only say that because you're her friend. Look at her stomach. You can see the way it hangs over through her skirt. That's not attractive honey."

If Parker could have crawled away and died at that very moment, she would have. Not only was she being berated by this woman, whose sole mission in life was to make Parker feel like shit with a smile on her face. But she was also being accosted in front of a crowd of her father's friends and Randy, no less. There was nothing else she could do, but grab the hem of her shirt and pull it back down over her stomach and try like hell not to let her reddening cheeks show.

With a devilish smirk, Randy lowered his head toward Ms. Lyles and spoke so that only she and Parker could hear him. "You should see how she looks naked. She keeps me at attention…if you know what I mean." Winking at Ms. Lyles, Randy turned around and grabbed Parker around the waist pulling her to him.

Parker could feel his breath on her lips as she tried to fight the urge to break out in hysterical laughter. He always did that. No matter how shitty things seemed, just some crass comment made everything seem like it wasn't that bad. He just knew what she needed. How in the hell did he do that? "Stop," she whispered.

"It's the truth, so fuck her." He replied before kissing her.

"Ms. Lyles, we're gonna be going now. But it was great to see you again." Accepting another hug from this crotchety old woman, Parker cringed. Getting the hell out of that reception was all she wanted to do.

"You too, honey. And remember what I said. You should do something about all that weight. It may be fun to play around in all that fat now, but he's not gonna wanna make a wife out of that." Ms. Lyles smiled and turned toward a group of people that she was sure to find someone else to pick on.

Parker took Randy's hand as they said their goodbyes. She had been dealing with shit like that all of her life. And though she never took it to heart before, she couldn't help but to wonder if there was some truth in Ms. Lyles' words.


	7. Chapter 7

The Pickled Parrot was a small restaurant and bar that surprisingly remained open in Canton for more than four years. With the neighborhood quickly filling with yuppies and those who preferred the Bohemian lifestyle, there were certainly enough bars and clubs in Canton to satisfy any customer's taste and run other establishment out of business. Hell, on Boston Street alone, there were a total of twelve bars, six restaurants, and two clubs all within a four block radius. It was a wonder that Parker and Avery's favorite spot remained open as long as it did.

It wasn't so much the establishment itself, but more the atmosphere and wonderful owners, that caused Parker and Avery to wander into The Pickled Parrot whenever they had time. They had befriended both the owners and staff and were always treated like family when they walked in the door.

The place itself was tame, even for a bar in Canton. With its beautiful cherry wood floors, marble tabletops, brass railings, and an old fashion wooden bar, every ounce of love, dedication, and drop of sweat that was put into that place could be seen in every corner. Plus the fact that they had a big ass game room in the back made it that much sweeter. There was no dropping cigarette ashes on the floors, throwing shit around, or bar fights, not if you were a regular. Those who frequented The Pickled Parrot respected the hell out their neighborhood hotspot entirely too much for that shit.

But then again, there were always those fucking newcomers that didn't understand the way things worked. And judging from the table next to theirs, Avery had a feeling that this was going to be a long fucking night. Filled with six drunken college girls, with their perfect bobbed haircuts and their halter tops showing all kinds of cleavage and tight jeans showing off their curves, Avery watched silently as these girls captivated the attention of almost every single guy there.

As soon as Randy and Jeff were away from the table, Parker turned to her friend and smiled. Avery seemed distracted, so what better way to pull her away from her death glare on a table full of loud, obnoxious girls than to ask her about Jeff? "So? How did last night go?"

Avery immediately turned her head and her entire face lit up. "Parker, Parker, Parker, Parker…" There were so many words that Avery wanted to say, yet somehow there weren't any to describe being with Jeff. "Wow. That's all I can say is, wow."

A huge smile crossed Parker's face. She knew that dreamy glassy eyed look on Avery's face anywhere. "It was that good, huh?" Raising her brows and nodding her head, she knew it wouldn't take much prompting before Avery told her entirely too much information about the encounter, but that's what best friends were for, right?

"You wouldn't think it by looking at him…but Parker…" Avery placed her hand over Parker's and the dramatics ensued, "he knows what the fuck he's doing. Excuse while I wipe the tear from my eye." Her voice cracked as if she was about to cry from happiness. Apparently, Jeff was so good that it robbed her vocal cords the ability to speak in an even tone. "And he's got this move where he does his hips, like this..." Avery stood at the table and swung her hip to the left and then to right with force, then gyrated for a moment.

"I don't need a visual." It was bad enough that Parker was going to get the play by play, but did Avery really need to demonstrate in front of the whole bar?

Avery broke character long enough to explain why she was acting out what move Jeff did. "Well, I thought I'd paint the picture, just in case you did." And as soon as the explanation was over she was right back in character. She sat back down and clutched Parker's arm. "Then he slapped that ass….Girl, I like to lost my damn mind. That's where it's at."

At the risk of hearing more of the story, Parker dared to ask a question. "So, things are good now? No more plans to commit sexual assaults?"

"Oh, I'm still raping his ass. But lemme tell ya, he does that late night while I'm asleep thing I love. You know where one minute I'm dreaming about buying handbags and the next thing I know, he's fucking the shit out of me. He's perfect. I think I finally found the perfect man. I need to bottle his ass up and keep him on my shelf or carry him around in my pocket in case of emergency."

The elation on Avery's face made Parker smile. Finally, Avery had found a decent guy that was crazy about her and apparently could keep up with her unchecked libido. That was truly a miracle in itself. "I'm so glad you're happy."

"What about you? How did your night with Animal Planet go?" That name always made Avery giggle. Hell it was true. She had Randy for one night and though she didn't think about it often, she remembered that much.

Parker smiled and cut her eyes toward Avery. "We are officially a couple."

"Really? Oh my God! You and him made it official? How in the fuck did you manage that?" It wasn't that Avery doubted Parker's skill or how wonderful she was; she just had her reservations about Randy. He was a nice guy, but Randy wasn't really boyfriend material. He was the kind of guy that you called in a pinch; Randy was a self-titled booty call man, nothing more. But somehow Parker changed that.

Parker shook her head with a shrug. She still didn't understand how that happened. And in the eighteen hours since it happened, she felt a whole new range of emotions and insecurities that she didn't think she had. It was always easier to be with Randy over the phone. Flirting with him, talking dirty to him, all of that was easier if she didn't have to see how fucking attractive he was. And it wasn't his face; it was just the shear perfection of his body. When Randy wasn't in Parker's sight, she didn't compare herself to him, but as soon as he was around, she did. And it wasn't that she was uncomfortable around him, but it was something that always made her feel different when he was there, and when other people were there too, it just intensified. Randy made her feel special; other people's reaction to Randy making her feel special, weirded her out.

It was always her comfort zone to know that they didn't have a real relationship. Sure she had feelings for him, but the way they went about everything before last night, there were no obligations or expectations. At anytime, either could decide they wanted to be with someone else and the other wouldn't have a right to get salty about it. That was the one thing that kept Parker from falling for Randy. Being friends with benefits had its advantages to her, but now Randy had changed all that.

Not that Parker thought that Randy was going to just up and leave. Hell, for the past six months even without a commitment, he had been committed to her and her to him. But now the stakes were higher. Now, they had a vested interest in each other, they were building toward something. Now, if he decided the girls at the table next to them were more his speed, she didn't have that, 'we're just friends' wall to hide behind. She knew it would genuinely hurt.

"I didn't do anything. That was him." Parker heard the fear in her own voice. What if he just changed his mind? She wasn't a paranoid person by any stretch of the imagination, but for a woman who had never been enough, or too much, of a woman for most men, having her first boyfriend scared the shit out of her. "I'm gonna be completely honest with you, I'm fucking noid over this shit, Ry-Ry."

"Park…he knows how fucking amazing you are. And it's about damn time, too. If he didn't do something soon, I was gonna have to beat the shit out of him." Avery's face said she didn't lie. She wasn't the type that would interfere with her friend's relationship, but she just wanted the best for Parker.

Avery knew that Randy knew, via Jeff, how phenomenal Parker was. And it was a damn shame that that man didn't think he was good enough for her. Avery wouldn't tell Parker all of the things that Jeff had shared with her, but Randy had a fear that he had only admitted once, when he was completely fucked up, that Parker was way out of his league. Jeff had told her that Randy said that Parker was so smart and funny and beautiful, there was nothing he could do to live up to that. Sure he could fuck her senseless, but really, what else was there that he did for her? That's what he was good at; Randy was a face and a name and not much more. Eventually she would get tired of his bullshit and his in your face personality and that's what kept him from telling her how he felt. It was cop out, but then again, Randy had that track record to be mindful of.

"This is it Park. It's finally time for us to be happy. And I'll tell you like this, I'm gonna ride this bitch till the wheels fall off. I've never seen you happier and I know damn well I've never felt like this about a guy who felt the same way about me. I'm going all out. You can sit back and worry yourself into an ulcer if you want to, but me? I doing it big 'cause I don't know if I'm ever gonna have this again. I mean really, how often does the whore find a nice guy?" It was almost too good to be true. Jeff Hardy was still interested in her, even the day after sleeping with him. "And when we leave here, I'm buying him some overalls, a straw hat, and a piece of wheat to chew on." Avery checked off the items on her fingers as if to make a mental note of her shopping list.

"Why?" As soon as Parker asked, she regretted it.

"I got this Huck Finn fantasy that I want to do with him. We're talking bare feet, looking like Farmer Brown, the whole shebang...I'm doing it all before it goes away." As soon as Avery looked up and saw Jeff making his way back to the table, a huge smile split across her face. She wasn't smiling because she was happy to see him. She was smiling because he was smiling at her with that look on his face. It was that same look that he had given her the night before; that look that said she was the most beautiful girl in the room. "That's my man." She informed Parker and pointed toward herself to reiterate that fact that he was hers. And just in case anyone else missed that, she looked around the restaurant and raised her voice. "Jeff Hardy…_my_ man." It didn't matter to Avery how long it lasted, only that at _that_ moment it was true.

It was rare to see Avery this excited over a guy. Hell, it was rare that Avery would still be with a guy, but Parker wouldn't have traded that smile on her best friends face for anything. Nor she would ever want to take away that dreamy look when Jeff sat back down and gently kissed her on the cheek. Jeff made Avery turned to putty and for a woman like Avery that was hard to do.

It was funny; Avery found her Prince Charming and Parker, her Boy Wonder. They were two completely different men with two polar opposite ways of showing affection, but for the two very different women they were with, they were perfect for each other. In reality, Jeff and Parker's temperaments were much more suited for each other, but they would be boring as hell together. The two of them would sit there thinking all the fucking time, never once really acting on anything. Avery and Randy both had the tendency to be loud and obnoxious and both were both emotion driven. More than likely, they'd kill each other if anything more ever transpired between them. They'd both need to be the center of attention and that relationship would have been over before it started.

Randy could see Parker sitting there with a smile on her face from the pool table. Meandering away from his in-progress game, he leaned over and kissed the hell out her, shoving his tongue in her mouth with all the passion he felt. There was no romantic, gentle brushing of his lips against hers. Nope. Randy wasn't like that. His impulse told him to slob her down and that's exactly what he did. The rules of Public Displays of Affection be damned. Randy Orton didn't follow rules. His plan was just to take her breath away and he was successful. That lust-drunk look in her eyes was what he wanted to see at the time. "You wanna beer?"

Parker couldn't talk; her brain was still numb from that kiss. Instead she nodded her head and watched as Randy walked away. But what turned her attention from looking at the muscles in his back through his tight ass t-shirt was the incessant giggling she heard from the table next to them.

Avery turned her head slowly and locked eyes with one of the girls. It was no damn coincidence that their laughter started the second that Randy's lips met with Parker's. She noticed the way the other girls were staring at Parker and giggling to each other, coupled with their whispering and a few gasps of utter disbelief. Avery's head turned from the table, to Parker, then back to the table, then back to Parker.

"What?" Parker asked Avery since she was strategically ignoring the other table; that always happened when she was out with Randy. They would get stares and raised eyebrows. Randy was cute, but he wasn't Boris Kodjoe or anything. But still a man that looked like him wasn't supposed be with a girl that looked like her. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Avery placed a hand on her thin hip and raised her brow and her voice so that the table next to them could hear her. "I'm just trying to figure out if you got shit on your shoulder." She turned to her head toward the six girls and stared them down. "Cause if not, there ain't no reason these bitches need be all up in your fucking grill."

Jeff's hand instinctively went to the back of Avery's neck and he started to calmly massage it. "Avery…you need to calm down." His voice was soft and non-threatening. Jeff would never tell Avery how to behave, but he would always try to calm her down so that she wouldn't blow up.

There were a few scoffs from the table, but the laughter stopped and the girls seemed to go about their business of being skanky whores. But it wasn't until one of them, the blonde, with the pink halter top that was too small, showing all of her full sized C breasts decided to take matters into her own hands. Sitting her drink down, she informed her friends, loud enough for Parker and Avery to hear, that they should all, "watch this".

Randy stood at the bar talking to bartender when the cute blonde approached him. She didn't say anything; she just stood next to him. There was plenty of room at the bar, there was no reason for her to be that close. But shit, he got that all the time. He could tell when a chick was hitting on him. He was a flirt; he couldn't help but to respond back. With a smirk on his face he looked at the blonde, then continued his conversation with the bartender. When she turned to face him and stuck her chest out, just a little further, Randy turned his attention to her and smiled. "Nice shirt."

"I should fuck that bitch up." Avery felt Jeff's arm come around her in an attempt to keep her at the table.

"Avery, if Parker ain't mad, why are you?" Damn Jeff and his sense of reason. Who cared if Parker wasn't mad? Parker wasn't the type to break off in somebody's ass when they deserved it, either.

Avery looked at Parker, who just sat there watching this chick practically shove her tits in Randy's face. There was no real definition to the expression on her face, but it wasn't comfortable. "Because Parker's too nice. Fuck that. I'm not. I will beat a bitch's ass up in this motherfucker."

"Ry-Ry, she's not doing anything." Parker couldn't take her eyes off of the display and she swore that her heart was going to stop when the blonde handed Randy a piece of paper, which she assumed contained her phone number. She watched in silence as Randy made his way back to the table and the blonde followed, sitting at her own seat.

Randy took his seat next to Parker and handed her the beer. As soon as she reached for it, he pulled it away. "You gotta pay me for this."

"I'm not paying you for a beer, Randy." She tried not to sound annoyed, especially not with the steam pouring from Avery's ears right next to her.

With a pout, Randy leaned over and nibble on her neck. "Please?"

Damn him and the nibbling. "What do you want?"

"Hmm? You bent over your dining table, some head, or both…whatever." He captured her lips and smiled into their kiss, before pulling back and placing the beer in her hand. "Oh, and you can have this, too." He handed her the paper with the blonde's phone number and lifted his own beer to his lips like there was nothing to it.

Parker wasn't really sure how to take that action. Looking down at the name, Bethany with ten digits written in really bubbly handwriting, Parker held the paper back out to Randy. "You sure you won't be needing it?"

Randy raised his brow as he tried to figure out just what Parker meant by that. "She had nice tits, but…they ain't as nice as the twins." His smile started to fade when he realized that Parker wasn't smiling back. This was exactly what he was worried about. How does a man that was a flirt by nature, stop to please one woman? Turning fully in his chair to meet Parker's face, Randy looked in her eyes gently tucked her hair back behind her shoulder. "Unless _you_ wanna fuck her, I don't need her number. But if you decide to call her, I wanna be there, cause I wanna watch that shit." He couldn't stop smiling when she smiled back at him. "You ain't getting rid of me that easily."

Avery rolled her eyes, when the blonde looked back at Randy and Parker with their faces close to each other, talking softly. Just the way she shook her head, pissed Avery off. "Skank bitch!"

This was just day one of being Randy's girlfriend and for some reason she thought things would be different. Like people would just know and back the hell off. Before she was his girlfriend, other women acted like he wasn't there with her. So why should she expect it to change now?


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: So I know it's been a minute since I updated. I've been suffering from the worst case of laziness known to man. For some reason when I sit down to write, I just start doing other things. I've had this chapter done for about a month, but then I couldn't think of what happened next. Sorry, it's not a Parker/Randy chapter, but I needed to establish some things with Jeff and Avery first. _

_Thanks for the emails. I haven't forgotten about this story and I'm happy that you haven't either. _

**This chapter contains sexual content.**

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The feel of Avery's hair tickled Jeff's chest as she steadily moved on him. Watching a movie on the couch somehow ended up with Jeff reclined, his back against the couch pillows, and Avery on her knees straddling him with her back against his chest. He had to admit there was something extremely erotic about not being about to see her face. From this position, he had to rely solely on her sounds, her movements and the number of goose bumps on her skin to convey what she was feeling. For a person like Jeff, one that lived through life through his senses, it was incredible. 

He had always heard that when one sense didn't work, the others doubled in their efforts. At that very moment, Jeff knew that was true. The lack of her facial expressions due to her back being to him, coupled with the fact that his eyes were closed meant that he had to experience her through one less sense. Completely clearing his mind, Jeff just concentrated on enjoying every other thing he could about her.

His sense of smell was satisfied by the gentle scent of her hair, while her head cradled in the bed of his neck. Her taste was present when he gently sucked on her moist fingers, which were used at his encouragement, to aid in her arousal. The sound of her gently saying his name satisfied his ears, and the feel of her damp skin as his hands glided over her body soothed his need for touch. But for Jeff, it still wasn't enough.

Jeff Hardy was man that needed to experience things to completely appreciate them, and Avery refusing to let him feel her the way he wanted made it hard for him to concentrate. Jeff's short attention span had always been his downfall. He wasn't what one would classify as ADD or anything, but he had a hard time getting in a zone if things weren't completely to his liking. Being with Avery was amazing, but it had the potential to be phenomenal, if only she would let him touch her.

Every time he would slide his hands up her torso and just past the slight slope of her breast, he could feel himself being able to completely give into everything he was sensing. But no sooner than his hands would cup her, would her hands come around his and ever so smoothly slide them back down her body until they rested either on the top of her hips, or between her thighs. Not that Jeff minded having his hand between her legs, but there was more to her than just that. If he was going to completely enjoy her, he wanted to enjoy all of her, not just what she wanted him to feel.

"Avery…lemme touch you." Jeff's voice a whisper in Avery's ear, but he noticed that she was still steadily guiding his hands away from her chest.

In all honesty, there really wasn't much to complain about. After all, Jeff was still getting laid, and it was really good. But shit. What else did he have to do to prove that he didn't care what size bra she wore? To him, that was probably the stupidest thing that a woman could obsess over. Really, if she wasn't nursing, what real purpose did her boobs have? Other than being touched and used for sex, none that he could see.

As much as she would've loved for him to touch her the way he wanted, there was something that made her feel extremely self-conscious when he did. Maybe it was the fact that Jeff had large hands. When he touched her breasts, they literally disappeared in the palm of his hand. There was no spillage through his fingers like she was sure that Parker had when Randy touched hers. Jeff couldn't even grip Avery, she was that small. Besides, in her mind, they were just tits. Guys didn't lose their minds over just tits alone. He didn't need to touch her chest. Why would he? He already had the most important part of her.

Avery was able to ignore his request, by admission of her own, "I'm gonna cum…" And with that she ground her hips against his pelvis and that started a chain reaction in him.

As Avery made her way off of his lap, she took a minute to sit next to him and just look at him. He wasn't doing anything, just gently staring off into space, with his brows knitted slightly and chewing on the inside of his lip. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." It was the truth. Jeff wasn't thinking about any one thing in particular. He just liked the quiet. Lord knows he didn't get it very often. Avery wasn't an extremely talkative person, to the point having to tune her out. There weren't loud conversations or music pumping through her stereo at her house. There weren't any dogs constantly barking or birds in cages whining all day long. Avery's apartment was quiet and Jeff was just appreciating it. It gave him time to mull over everything that his senses had just taken in.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No." He turned to look at her in question. She genuinely looked worried. "Why would I be mad? You didn't do anything." He ran his finger down her cheek and smiled.

With a shrug, Avery draped her leg over Jeff's. "You're just so quiet."

For every moment of something beautiful, Jeff liked to reflect on it. It could be a song he heard, or a painting he saw; it really didn't matter. He just liked to take the time to paint it in his own mind… appreciate it in a quiet moment…it really had nothing to do with Avery. But knowing her like he did, she wouldn't take his silence. She would find a way to twist it into something that he was unhappy with her about. "I was just thinking about what we just did."

A smile crossed her face. "Yeah? And?"

It hadn't gotten that far yet. He was still replaying it in his mind. He hadn't had time to compartmentalize it and file it way to the point where he could express it into words. "You are beautiful." He knew that much for sure. The rest of it, give him a few hours and he'd be able to write her a poem about it.

Jeff told her she was beautiful. That was amazing in itself. He didn't say she was skinny, or that she didn't have hips. He didn't say that she had a small chest, or that she was a good lay. All he thought was that she was beautiful. She pressed her lips to his silently before resting her head on his shoulder as he held her. This man was too good to be true.

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The sun started to slowly creep across the foot of the bed, setting Avery's bedroom to a peaceful glow. For reasons unbeknownst to him, Jeff Hardy was wide awake. He should have been dead to the world, with the night they had before. Lord knows, he had drank a little too much, danced a little too hard, then came home and had Avery a few times before they went to bed. For a man that should have been exhausted, he just laid there, looking around the room.

The contrast between the otherwise darkened room and the sunlight coming through the window created the most incredible shadows, especially with the way that Avery was lying, partially on her side, with her hip exposed. Trying to be as quiet as he could, Jeff got out of the bed and over to his bag. Retrieving his sketch pad and pencil, he sat down next to Avery, and folded his legs.

He wasn't really trying to draw her, only the contrast between the light and dark parts of the room. But the way the shadows were falling on her, he noticed how small her waist was and the way her hip gently curved and sloped down to her long leg. The shape of her body against the symmetrical straight lines of the furniture in her room interested him. Absently rubbing the pencil against the paper he ended up with shaded spaces, curves and lines. He knew damn well that no one that looked at his sketch would know what in the hell it was supposed to be, but that was the way his eyes broke down everything that was around him.

It wasn't until Avery rolled over that Jeff got another idea. He laid the sketch pad on the floor before stretching out at Avery's side. She was asleep, why not take the advantage? Extending his hand, he slowly touched her cheek and smiled at the way she wrinkled her nose. As his hand trailed down over her throat, Jeff closed his eyes trying to picture her in his mind. He could see the curve of her shoulder and the fine hairs on her arm that was lying across her midsection. When he reached her fingers, he allowed his hands to travel upward until he felt her ribcage and higher until he felt her breast. Still running his hand across her skin, he found himself smiling at the way her nipple hardened just under the pads of his fingers.

Avery opened her eyes and looked over at his face. He looked completely crazy; smiling with his eyes closed as his felt her up. Maybe if he had a smoldering gaze on his face, it would have been erotic, but she couldn't say it was at that moment. "Jeff? What are you doing?"

"I'm seeing what you look like." It was an honest answer, one that he didn't feel like explaining. He needed quiet and to just feel.

She would do anything to distract him from touching her chest. She lifted her torso so that his hand slid back down to her rib cage and sighed. "It might help if you opened your eyes."

He was determined to have his moment. "Shut up, Avery."

"Well can't you see anything? Your eyes are closed."

How could he make her understand? It was just how he was. "When you use your eyes, you have to try to judge things by comparing it to other things you've seen before. When you see with your hands, you get to create what you're looking at." He wasn't going to open his eyes to see that look of utter confusion on her face. He understood it that was all that mattered.

"Well what do you see?"

"You have a long neck, like a giraffe. But a cute one, like Geoffrey from Toys R Us. You have really soft skin and little fine hairs on your arms." He retraced every part of her as he described to her what he saw. "You're breasts are perfect They like me." He gently pinched her nipple and smiled when she flinched.

Avery moved his hand from her breast by smacking it playfully. She wasn't slick, no matter how subtle she thought she was.

Jeff opened one eye and looked at her seriously. Taking both of her hands he pinned them by her head and stared down at her. "Leave your hands right there." His voice wasn't threatening, but Avery knew damn well that he was serious.

He closed his eyes again and shook off his annoyance, then continued to create his image. "You're hungry, because you're stomach is growling…your hips are in perfect contrast with how small your waist is." His hand trailed even lower between her thighs and he felt himself smile. "Apparently you're horny…and judging by the way your thighs are contracting; I'd say you're ticklish right here."

Avery couldn't stop laughing as Jeff continued to gently run his fingers over the spot on her inner thigh. But when his hand trailed lower, down her leg, past her knee to her foot and he picked it up and kissed it, she couldn't contain her smile. He seemed completely content touching all over. It was really interesting to see him completely enamored with what he felt. "So what's the verdict Monet? Am I like the all blurry and shit, or like the Mona Lisa?"

"da Vinci did the Mona Lisa, not Monet." Jeff laid down on Avery, putting his head on her chest and gently found himself kissing the one part of her that he knew bothered her the most. "In my honest artistic opinion, I'd say you are definitely a ten. You could model for me any day."

Avery's hands found themselves in Jeff's long hair as she tried to force herself with being comfortable with him touching her breasts. "But wouldn't it nice if my boobs were bigger?"

After taking a minute to really think about the most careful response to the question, he decided the comparative approach would be the best. "Avery…you're a beautiful girl with a small chest. If your boobs were bigger, you'd just have bigger boobs and an attitude. Besides, do you know how out of proportion you'd be? You're a small woman. It don't make sense that you'd want you want a big chest. That's call distortion. You know how hard it is to draw that?"

What the fuck was he talking about? Who cared about drawings? This was about filling out a sweater and not having to wear a training bra. "I'm still thinking about making them bigger. And not Anna Nicole bigger, just bigger than they are. You can't tell me you wouldn't appreciate that."

Some artistic people have the gift of gab; Jeff was one such person, but usually on paper. Only after he had time to think about what picture he wanted to create with words, at what pitch and rhythm, then Jeff could talk. If he had a pen and pad, he could tell her exactly how much he loved her body and how he wasn't the least bit turned off by her. He could analyze a situation and give you his advice with no problem, but when it came to voicing his feelings, Jeff faltered at sounding like he didn't have his shit together; at least to him it sounded jumbled up. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to hurt some ones feelings; especially someone whose feelings were as fragile as Avery's.

"Does it bother you that I have a little gut?" Jeff Hardy use to have a body that women went crazy for. But then he realized something, he didn't like to exercise. Jeff didn't like boundaries and watching everything he ate and spending hours on end in a gym wasn't exactly the most creative way he could his time. Luckily for him, he had a high metabolism and he was just active as all hell. But still, when muscle fades it turns into fat. He wasn't fat by any means, but that wash board stomach, wasn't washing very much these days. It didn't stop him from being sexy as all get out, though.

Avery shook her head adamantly. "I love your stomach. It's so cute."

"Well I love your breasts. They're _cute_." He answered mocking her.

"But…"

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Jeff moved his head up to her face and looked her in the eye. "You're not gonna make this easy for me are you? There is nothing wrong with you. Your problem is here." He pointed to the side of her head and then to chest. "Not here."

"And your problem is here." She pointed to his lips in an attempt to get him to be quiet and stop trying to tell her that her chest was fine. Who was he kidding, they weren't. He could be honest; she would still sleep with him.

"Well how 'bout you shut me up?" With his brow raised and the perfect picture of her basking in the sunlight underneath of him in mind, Jeff leaned down to kiss her. He wasn't letting anything distort what he saw when he looked at Avery. And not even Avery's self image was going to change his mind.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Okay, so it's been forever since I've updated this story. Truthfully, I have a few chapters written, but not in any sequential order. Yet another reason why I hate writing sequels, I lose interest in them. I've been struggling so much with this story, not because I don't know where it's going, but because I have seriously lost my desire to tell the story. I've lost the excitement for it. I'm trying, though._

_I've fought with this chapter for a week. I'm still on the fence with it, but I hope you like it. I can't promise when another update will come, but I have a lot of ideas. Pray I get some motivation._

_This chapter is for Thee.allure. You rock, doll!

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A divine smell hit Parker's nose as soon as she climbed the last flight of stairs in her building, that made her stomach growl. She hadn't had a home cooked meal in months. Just the thought of eating off of real dishes with a knife and fork, instead of plastic spork and Styrofoam containers she had grown dependent on, seemed impossible. She didn't have time to cook, nor really the desire. And with her schedule being as hectic as it was, she didn't see that changing any time soon.

The warmth and aroma in the hallway reminded her of Sundays when she was a child. Parker could vividly remember coming home from Mass in the early afternoon and her house smelling like the roast her mother had put in the oven before they left for church. The food would cook slowly in the oven while they were away and by the time they walked in the door the house smelled like heaven. It was on those very same Sundays that her family would have dinner at three… then Parker would have dinner again at six. Her parents figured she was a growing girl and a little extra never seemed to anyone before. But what did hurt was that sandwich around eight and a snack before she went to bed at nine thirty.

It took years of second helpings and Sunday dinners to make Parker a voluptuous two hundred and eighty five pounds. And truthfully, she enjoyed putting on every pound she earned. And judging from how good the food in her hallway smelled now, she could afford to put on another two or three; especially since she hadn't eaten all day.

Turning the key in the lock, her eyes widened when the scent hit her nose. Those smells were coming from _her_ apartment. She hadn't noticed her mom's car outside of the building, nor did she see any catering trucks parked in the loading dock. That could only mean one thing.

Randy.

"Shut up, man." Randy Orton leaned against the counter with his cell phone pressed to his ear and a smirk on his lips. It was nothing for John to give him constant shit about Parker. It was par for the course with them. Whenever John had a girlfriend, Randy constantly rode his ass about him being whipped. And since this was the first time John had ever known Randy to have one, he wasn't going lightly on his friend. Grabbing his crotch as if John was looking at him, Randy started to laugh. "I got your bitch right here."

Clearing her throat at the sight of him feeling himself, Parker raised her brow. Randy had cooked? She remembered him offering but she never thought in a million years that he would actually do it. And who would have believed that it would smell so good?

Smiling at her smiling at him, Randy pushed off the counter and made the few paces until he was standing in front of her. With the phone moved away from his ear, he leaned down and kissed her lips softly. This was nice. Hanging out his girlfriend's house, getting free reign of the place in her absence…rummaging through her DVD collection to find porn, reorganizing her CDs into good music and crap piles, greeting her after a long day at the office, while all he had to do was stay home and cook. He could get used to being a housewife. "How was it?"

"Meh. About as fun as watching a tonsillectomy can be." With a shake of her head at his expression, she walked to her bedroom, kicked off her shoes and turned back to see Randy leaning against the counter.

Even if Randy wasn't wearing a pink apron and hot pants, he still looked pretty damn good in a white beater, track pants and white socks. He looked masculine, even though his little ass girly cell phone was so incredibly small that it damn near disappeared in his large hand. He had one arm draped over his chest to support the arm that was raised to his ear and even then his muscles flexed. The muscles in his stomach were visible through his undershirt even though his trim abdomen seemed to dip inward with him leaning. The sight of his upper body, however, was quickly overshadowed by his thick thighs, even though they were encased in loose fitting track pants. She could still see their definition. Even his long legs, that jetted out from his body and his sock covered feet crossed at the ankle, were ripped. The man's body was out of control. And yet for some reason, Parker wasn't the least bit embarrassed around or intimidated by it.

Still, that's not to say that she didn't wish that she could remaining standing in the position that Randy was in for a long time. She knew for sure that he could stand against the counter with his legs crossed at the ankles and not have his feet get tired or pains in his back, because his weight wasn't distributed evenly between his back and legs. It was nice to dream, but the truth was Parker got cramps and sore feet anytime she stood for more than a couple of hours at a time.

"Cena says, 'Hi.'" Randy's voice forced her to concentrate on his words and not just the sexy specimen of man that she had been staring at. He laughed when she rolled her eyes and nodded her head in response. "She said, 'Fuck you, you little dick motherfucker. You ain't shit.'" With a huge grin on his face he shrugged his shoulders at Parker. Even though she didn't say it, he knew she was thinking it.

It was no secret that while John tried his best to make peace with Parker, she wasn't having any parts of it. And why should she? He did her wrong. In Randy's mind, if Parker never forgave Cena that was fine by him. His girl and his best friend didn't have to get along. He wasn't trying to fuck John and he wasn't trying to pal around with Parker. As far as he was concerned he was cool with both of them, fuck it if they ever spoke to each other again.

Walking over to where Randy stood, she watched him out of the corner of her eye as she casually tried to open the oven door to see what was inside. Feeling Randy's hand on her arm and then seeing him shake his head disapprovingly, she frowned. She was starving. All she wanted to know was what was making her mouth water. Ultimately giving up on the idea of getting a sample, she reached for a jar of peanut butter and took a piece of celery from the chopping board in disgust.

Randy narrowed his eyes at her bottom lip that suddenly poked out. "Alright bitch. Get off my phone." He informed John watching Parker take the piece of celery, dip it in the peanut butter and take a bite. "Oh, wait. Should they wear brown to the club?" Parker could barely make out John ask 'who'. She knew what Randy was going to say, she just hoped that he wouldn't go there. "These nuts!" Randy laughed hanging up in John's ear and sat the phone on the counter.

With a roll of her eyes, Parker double dipped into the peanut butter. "What are you, ten?" She asked in between crunches and catching her bottom lip between her teeth to stop the celery juice from dripping.

"Inches, baby. Inches." Grabbing the pot holder, he opened the oven door and nodded his head in approval. Randy prided himself on being able to make a few things that were edible. By no means was he a good cook, but he knew enough that he would never go hungry. Placing the hot casserole dish on top of the stove, he smirked when pulled off the foil. "Smell that shit. Smells good, huh?"

Parker ducked her head around his arm and was greeted with a face full of steam and the most heavenly smell she had witnessed in a very long time. It was enough to make her ravenously take another crunch of her celery stick. "What is it?"

"A guaranteed foodgasm." Replacing the foil cover on the pan, Randy walked over to the kitchen table and pulled a box out of a bag. "Did you know you didn't have a steamer?"

"I didn't have groceries, either. Where did you get all of this?" Feeling her hand being slapped when she tried to get a good look in the pan, she poked her tongue at him and took a step back. She needed to step back to fully take in Randy being a domestic god. She could get use to this – having a tight bodied little house boy to cook her meals for her. Now, if she could just get him to lose the pants and maybe don something a little more tight fitting that showed his thighs…

"I went to the store." Randy moved like he was familiar with being in the kitchen, even though he was nervous as hell that he would fuck something up. He had already promised Parker that he would make a meal that she would love; now what if he couldn't deliver. He wasn't so much worried that she wouldn't like the food as he was that he would burn it or worse, burn himself in the process. Randy could cook and burn himself as much as he wanted to at home. But he wasn't so sure that he wouldn't look like an idiot cooking with an audience. "I got the stuff for dinner and some other stuff for the week. I got you a steamer…"

"Like I'm ever going to steam anything." She mumbled under her breath.

"AND," he interrupted looking over his shoulder at her, "I put a veggie casserole in your freezer. All you gotta do is heat it up." Turning around to her with a face that symbolized he was the man, he took in her shocked expression. "What? It's gonna be good. Trust me."

She was at a loss for words. If the veggie casserole tasted a fourth as good as whatever he was making now smelled he truly was the perfect, crass, incredibly flawed, man. "You went grocery shopping?" She had grazed over everything else he said. Not being able to get the image of him with a little shopping cart and list, a pencil neatly placed behind his ear, checking coupons and squeezing melons…well she could see that part. Knowing him he would get aroused by that. But still, Randy went grocery shopping? "Like at the actual super market?"

"Yeah. I know how to shop, Park." Adding seasoning to the steamer he checked off in his mind what else he needed to add. If he was going all out for dinner, he wanted it to be perfect. But this being a gourmet chef shit was stressful. "Oh shit, wait." And with that he went back to the refrigerator and pulled out a pan covered with a dish towel. "Rolls." He smiled when he pulled off the covering to expose the rolls that had been rising in the darkened ice box.

Completely stunned. That was what Parker was. Over the last six months she thought she had seen everything about Randy that there was to see. He was so much more than his bedroom skills, not that he or anyone else would admit to that. He was hard to take at times and completely uncouth all of the other times. But in that moment, he was the sweetest thing she had ever seen.

Silently working around him as he steamed vegetables and baked bread, Parker grabbed plates, and silverware to set the table. To her knowledge, she and Randy never sat at the table to eat. Usually, they would order take out and sit on the couch in front of the television. It wasn't that classy, but it was comfortable. But that was before. Now that he was her boyfriend was it expected that they would have romantic little dinners at the dining room table together? Should she light candles? Was she reading more into it than necessary?

Even with all of her questions, she knew the answer to one for sure. She was not going to unbutton her pants at the table while they ate. It was something that she normally did when she was home alone. It wasn't uncommon for her to do it when she and Randy would feast on pizza or subs in her living room. Sure, it was country but there was nothing worse than having the waist of her jeans digging into her stomach when it expanded after a meal. And when she watched as he brought baked chicken breast, boiled red potatoes, steamed carrots, asparagus and dinner rolls to the table, she knew that her jeans were going to be too tight in a matter of minutes. But for all of his trouble, she would gladly suffer through it.

Sitting across from her at the round table, watching patiently Randy nodded his head toward her plate. "So…eat." He reached for his glass of iced tea and took a big sip, trying to wet his suddenly dry mouth at her reaction.

"Oh my God. Are you sure my mom didn't come over here and do this?" She couldn't believe it. She was all psyched to pretend that it was delicious even though she doubted it would be. But he had worked so hard, that she didn't want to hurt his feelings. But this? This was too much. It was good, delicious even. Randy could cook? Could he get any more perfect?

And then he opened his mouth. "I did this. I got skills like that." Finally able to relax, he picked up his own fork and made a mocking face to match her expression. "So? Can you take my tonsils out now?" This is what grownups did. They made real conversation over dinner, not just sexual advances or comment about the movie they were watching. People in relationships asked each other about their day when they sat down to eat. It really wasn't half bad, it actually made him feel like he knew what he was doing.

It wasn't like he didn't admire Parker's dedication to her job. Even on her day off she still went to the hospital to scrub in for a tonsillectomy. Not that she thought she would ever perform one herself, but she was asked by her attending physician to come into the O.R. to watch the surgery. Randy wouldn't have done that shit. On his days off he didn't give a fuck what the WWE had going on. If he wasn't getting paid to be there, fuck Vince.

With a nod, she picked up a knife and cut into her chicken. "Right after dinner. Right here on the table if you want."

"I want something on this table and it damn sure ain't my tonsils out." A perfectly romantic dinner turned foul by the mouth of Randy Orton. It truly was a gift. He could only be mature for so long before the real Randy crept out.

Trying to keep an affronted face, Parker felt her lips turn up in a smile. This was what she was used to. This is what she liked about him. Having a romantic dinner was nice, but it didn't feel like them. "So that's why you cooked? You expect something in return?" She had planned on giving him something even if they ate ham and cheese tonight. It wasn't about gifting, it was about the fact that she loved the way she felt with him. Not once did he try to force this healthy shit, which was amazing, down her throat because he wanted her to lose weight. He made what he could make because she had told him that she hadn't had a home cooked meal in a long time and he wanted to. He dug her enough to care. Wow.

"Naw. I cooked because I was hungry. I made enough for you to take for lunch and something for you to have later this week because I want some ass." He could listen to her laugh forever. But when she shook her head no, his fork dropped to his plate and he rested his back against the chair. "Oh you giving something up. I'm leaving tomorrow and I don't get to see you for two more weeks."

"You already made the food. I got what I wanted. What? You gonna take it with you?" Parker reached over to take another helping of asparagus, not thinking twice about it. There was once a time when she didn't eat in public, let alone in front of a guy. But Randy? He ate twice as much as she did on any given day and he never looked at her disapprovingly if she wanted more. He didn't care that she didn't care about her weight. There was nothing to be embarrassed about.

"You like vegetables, don't you?" Damn that big ass, all knowing smile on his face. "Face it. I'm the total package. I look good. I smell good. I can dress my ass off. I can cook like a motherfucker. And I'm good in bed. What else could you possibly want?"

"God, you're conceited." Finishing up her plate she noticed that Randy had already finished with his. He may have known all about food preparation and presentation, but he still inhaled everything he ate like it was the last time he would ever eat again.

Standing from the table, he gathered his dirty dishes and walked over to the kitchen sink. "I'm not conceited, I'm confident."

"Fuck that, you're arrogant." Following suit, she too gathered her dishes and entered the kitchen.

Covering the remaining chicken with aluminum foil, Randy shook his head in rebuttal. "I'm self-assured."

"You're self centered."

Shrugging Randy walked over to the table and grabbed the bowl of vegetables bringing them back to the kitchen counter. Measuring the foil he broke off a piece and covered the dishes and smiled when he saw Parker standing at the sink, filling it with water to wash the dishes. He could get use to this. "I'm just good at everything I do."

Biting the inside of her lip, trying to think of a witty comment, she felt the atmosphere of the room change when he brushed by her to open the refrigerator door. "You're a dick."

He stepped behind Parker, wrapping his arms around her waist. He loved the way his arms filled with her. Her skin was warm and soft and if he played his cards right, he would get to feel more of it with her clothes being in the way. "Correction. I _have _a big dick that you can't get enough of." Dinner was over, it was time for dessert. And on his last night with her, Randy was going to get a lot of it. He knew she couldn't resist him, and really there was no use in trying.

It was at times like these when Parker didn't remember that she was overweight. Even with the waistband of her jeans creating a nasty red mark on her stomach, or her feet starting to alert her that she had been on them entirely too long today, it was something about having Randy's arms around her that made that all disappear. And that damn tongue trailing on her neck that made her almost forget that by the next morning, he would be gone and she would be on another thirty-six hour shift, hating life. "You're an egomaniac." Turning around to face him, she felt him reach behind her to turn off the facet. Drinking in that smirk, she couldn't help but to match it with one of her own.

"I'm yours." He was hers. Randy Orton was a kept man. How was that possible? Only officially together for three days and already he was telling her he was hers. But with a girl like his, it really didn't seem that bad.

When he put it like that, it really wasn't. So what if they mismatched? Parker was happy. And more importantly, she wasn't embarrassed when his hands slid inside of her shirt and touched the roll of skin that hung over her jeans. She didn't have the need to suck in her stomach or feel bad because she didn't feel bad about not wanting to. She didn't mind that her love handles rolled over her waistband and she knew without a doubt that Randy didn't either. Succumbing to his lips on hers, she couldn't help but to agree. "God help me."


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I made changes to this chapter, but Document Manager is acting weird, so I'm not sure if they saved. If it's a little screwed up, you still get the point._

"Thank you." Avery took the clipboard and looked at the form. It wasn't like she hadn't ever filled one out before; still she couldn't help but to feel nervous about it. How honest should she be? Should she really answer all of questions or only the ones that pertained to why she was there? And what about the psychological part of the questionnaire? Would they think she was crazy?

All she wanted was her boobs done for God's sake. Now, if she answered one question incorrectly they'd be shipping her off to Sheppard Pratt instead of letting her hold silicone based implants. Walking over to the chairs in the waiting room, she took a seat. "What's wrong with you?"

Parker casually turned her head toward Avery and raised a brow. "Um, besides the fact that we're here? Or that I have rounds in an hour and I haven't looked at a single chart, yet? And we're going to DC in two days and I haven't packed. Not to mention that I've been awake for almost two days and I swear my feet are going to fall off. Other than that I'm fine. Unless of course you consider that you dragged my ass down here and don't you _need _a boob job."

"Oh come on, Park. I'm not getting it done...yet. I'm just here for a consolation. I just wanna find out what all it involves." Taking the pen from under the metal clamp on the clipboard, she began to write the requested information on the paper. It had taken Avery two weeks to decide to actually call to make the appointment, the least Parker could do was be supportive.

This was the most ridiculous idea that Avery had to date. And knowing Avery as well as she did, that was really saying something. "You can't even afford a new car. How in the hell are you going to pay for this? And, when are you going to have the time to get it done?"

"There's always summer vacation. I have twelve weeks off. I can go to Cancun anytime, but when will I ever get the chance to recover from surgery? Besides, _you_ have some time off then, too. You can take care of me. Sounds like fun, don't it?" Never lifting her head from the form in front of her Avery continued to answer the questions. "And I was thinking that I could borrow some money from my mom and tap into my trust fund for the rest."

Shaking her head Parker let out a huff. Why couldn't Avery see that this was a bad idea? "Ry-Ry, your dad left you that money for your wedding. You can't use it for tits."

"Park, who is going to marry me like this? I can't even hold up the damn dress, let alone some skimpy night gown on the honeymoon. Look at it this way; this is a down payment on my future as somebody's busty wife."

"Ms. Brooks?" The nurse called from the opening of the door. "The doctor will see you, now."

Hitching her breath, Avery grabbed the clipboard off of her lap and her bag from the floor. As she stood, she noticed that Parker hadn't moved. She craned her neck and narrowed her eyes at Parker and watched as her best friend reluctantly got off the chair.

The hallway was neutral in color with various pictures of foreign places along its path. It really didn't feel like a cosmetic surgeon's office at all. Avery had half way expected to see before and after pictures. Admittedly, she was a little disappointed that there were no random boobs with the faces blurred out or pictures of torsos with lines drawn on them, indicating where the cutting would begin. At least if this doctor had photos she could get an idea about his work.

"Where did you find this guy?" Parker asked as they made their way up the hall toward the door on the end. She didn't make it known, but she was checking to see how clean everything was. There were no obvious dust bunnies and she was happy to see that the table peeking out from one room had a roll of sanitary paper on it. "Don't tell me he had an ad on the radio or something."

Avery turned to Parker and handed her the items in her hand. She kicked her shoes off unceremoniously and stood on the scale. She always hated this part. Just once she would have liked the scale to read one hundred and fifteen pounds. But as the nurse moved the weight to the right, she felt her face scrunch. "I'm not that stupid. I saw an ad online and it had a coupon with it." She rolled her eyes at the look on Parker's face, and laughed to out loud. "Oh Parker, come on. I looked on my insurance's website. I figured if Blue Cross accepted him, he can't be _that_ bad. Besides, he has an office at Hopkins. That's got to say something about him."

"You didn't check references? Have you seen a sample of his work? Where did he graduate from? Just because he has an office here doesn't make him a good doctor. Hopkins has thousands of employees…"

"Relax, Park. I'm gonna let him stuff shit in my tits, not yours." Frowning when the nurse verified that she was in fact one hundred and three pounds, Avery stepped down. She entered the small room with the window that faced Broadway and looked around. She could feel her heart rate increase and wondered why suddenly she felt nervous.

"Remove everything from the waist up and put this on." The nurse handed her a paper gown and smiled. "Dr. Taylor will be in a few minutes."

"Um…you got something I can look at. Just to see what his boobs look like?" Avery accepted the gown and sat it on the edge of the table. Nodding when she was instructed that the doctor would bring the information in with him, she then turned to Parker. "Don't laugh, okay?"

Parker rolled her eyes and turned her head toward the window. "Avery, I've been looking at your tits since the seventh grade. They haven't grown…I know them just about as well as I know my own. Take your damn shirt off, already." She looked at her watch one final time and prayed that this doctor would not make her late for rounds.

* * *

Randy Orton liked attention. He especially liked attention from beautiful women. But there was nothing better than attention from a beautiful woman that also worked in retail. It got him free shit. It got him to the front of the line. And it almost always got him a phone number. Today, however, all he wanted was help.

"I don't know, Man. What you think she'd like?" Randy looked up from the rack of lingerie at Cena and rolled his eyes when his friend shrugged. Why did he even bring him? He didn't come to think of it. All he said was he was going to the mall and Cena took it upon himself to hop his happy ass in the rental. This was the third store and so far Cena had been no damn help.

It wasn't a hard mission. Randy just wanted to get something sexy for Parker. Not that he didn't think she was sexy on her own, but he was a guy. He liked the whole 'dress up for me, and I'll take it off you' thing. Parker's choice in underwear and night shirts was fine. And honestly he didn't need much to get him in the mood. But he was just looking for something a little extra. Something that would go with the candles and strawberries and all that other shit that chicks dug.

"So what are you gonna be wearing? A smoking jacket and silk pajamas or some shit?" Laughing at Randy's expression, Cena walked over to another rack and picked up a pair of red see-through thongs. Letting his fingers trail inside the lace he turned to his friend and nodded. "This is hot." No sooner did he say that did he notice Randy fondling the breasts of the mannequin situated between them. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Seeing if I can pop this bitch off." There wasn't a bra alive that Randy couldn't get off. He could do it with one hand, no matter how many clamps it had on it. He could do it in one motion, while his other hand was busy doing something else. God had blessed him with big hands for a reason. And no sooner did he cup both of the plastic breasts in his hand and slide them down, did the bra pop off of the torso and shoot across the room. "Damn, I'm good. It's like tits know it's me."

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Now that's what Randy was talking about. They had been the store for a few minutes and no one came to their aid. But as soon as Randy showed his skill, clerks were tripping over themselves to help him. And she was cute. Reddish hair, green eyes. Maybe if was lucky he could get her to model for him.

His hands quickly left the chest of the mannequin as he leaned against the rack of nighties to look at her. She was about Parker's height, but not her build. Maybe her modeling wouldn't look exactly the same, but it was still worth a shot. "I'm looking for something for my girl."

That was vague. All day long men came into Victoria's Secret looking for 'something for their girlfriend's' but none of them had a clue as to what it was. Judging by the look of the man in front of her, he would be no different. "Do you know what you have in mind?"

"Something hot." Randy walked away from her and over to wear John was standing. Thongs really didn't seem like Parker. Not that he would mind if she wore one. But he really couldn't see her being comfortable with a piece of string up her ass. "She's kinda classy, so nothing too skanky. But, it's for me, so it's got to be gritty. And white. Yeah…with some frilly shit and some see through…maybe some straps or buckles…crotchless…" All the while he talked, his hands dug further into silk material of the thongs on the table.

John turned his head at Randy and looked confused. Was he shopping for _Parker_? Did he not know what she looked like? John had tried to be friendly with her after everything went down, but that didn't change the facts. Parker was a big girl. She was cute and a nice girl. But the fact remained that Parker was a _big_ cute, nice girl. That's why he had suggested Lane Bryant when they first got to the mall. That's where big girls shopped. Granted they had bras that made boobs look like missiles and granny panties, but at least it was in her size. Not that he could tell Randy that.

John knew right away as soon as he saw Randy's face that Lane Bryant wasn't what he thought Parker needed. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she carried a lot of weight on her. All he did was hold up one extra large pair of panties, scrunch his nose and said, 'Hell no.' He seemed determined to find something for her in stores made for smaller women. Stores like Victoria's Secret.

If there was one thing John knew, it was women. Maybe not to the extent that Randy did, but he wasn't a slouch. He could tell by the sizes and shapes of the items on the table, that nothing in there would fit Parker. But Randy seemed to be happy shopping there. He had this stupid proud look on his face. One that said he was going to find something. And John knew that it was going to end badly.

"What size is she?" The clerk walking over to more provocative attire. Judging by how handsome these men were, she could almost imagine what their girl friends would look like. Models, probably. They would be super skinny, with fake every things. She rolled her eyes at the thought.

What the hell size was Parker? He didn't have a clue. Did it really matter? In Randy's mind she only needed to have it on long enough for him to take it off. If he got it a size too small it wouldn't hurt her that bad. "Uh…she's about yea high…" He held his hand out to indicate her height, "And she's got hips like," he motioned his hands in an hour glass. "She's a triple D." He held his hands in front of his chest with a proud smile to indicate her chest. Not only was he proud that he knew that much, but that his girl was sporting huge tits. What more could a man want?

"What size clothes does she wear?"

"I don't know. What size do you wear?" Randy turned on the charm that quickly. He knew that he wasn't ever supposed to ask a woman what size she wore. But he was Randy Orton and he could drip sex in the tone of his voice. And judging from the blush that stained her cheeks, he wasn't about to get the shit slapped out of him. If nothing else, he was about to get yet another unwanted phone number.

And she bit. She took it as a sign of him flirting. She bit her lip and flipped her hair over her shoulder before answering, "I'm an eight." The red head wasn't small, not like Avery, but she wasn't exactly as curvy as Parker either. This chick would be a good measuring stick. If she was an eight, then Randy would just go a size or two bigger. It really wasn't that big of a deal.

"Oh, hell no!" John shot out. Not insinuating that the woman was lying, but judging from the look on her face that's the impression she got. He was simply stating that Parker would not fit into an eight. Something that his friend obviously didn't understand.

Randy didn't respond, instead he held up his middle finger to John, who was standing behind him never letting his eyes leave the saleswoman. "Alright…I'ma go for a ten." He watched as she pulled various items off of the hangers and held them up to her own body to model. Although they were nice, nothing really screamed _Parker_.

Just as he was about to give up hope, it was as if the heavens opened up and shined a light on one hanger. It was white and see through. It had a garter belt and matching thong that went under it. It was corseted with a little bit of lace and it tied in the front. There was no bra part, so that meant that Parker's breasts would be lifted by the bodice and on display for him.

It was perfect.

"I want that one." He pointed, feeling tears pick his eyes at the image of his girl wearing it. She was going to look so good in that he had the fight the urge to call her and tell her what he found. No. He wouldn't. He couldn't. It was a surprise. "Definitely that one."

Holding the item against her, the clerk looked down at it. "Oh, but it's a twelve. It's the biggest size we have in the store."

He didn't care. All Randy knew was that he wanted it. "So? Do you gift wrap?"

John stood behind him deftly shaking his head. He wanted the woman not to let Randy make the biggest mistake of his life. There was no way in hell Parker was going to get into that. No. Way. In. Hell. But it was too no avail, because she said they did and walked behind the counter to ring it up.

There wasn't anything malicious about Randy's intentions. He found something sexy that he thought his already sexy girlfriend would look sexy in. He handed over his credit card with a smile on his face not knowing that he was about to make a huge mistake.

* * *

Avery looked in the full length mirror and nodded in approval. She had lines drawn all over her chest, but she could see why the doctor wanted to go in under her arm pit. She fair skinned and an incision on her breast would probably leave a scar. She held the saline solution implants in her hand up to her chest and pulled the paper gown around them. "You can't go any bigger than this?"

"Ms. Brooks, you're a small woman. I don't want you to look disproportionate." Dr. Taylor was a relatively young man, with hair that was starting to grey at his temples. He had a gentle face and warm brown eyes, and even Parker was impressed with his bed side manner. He walked over to where Avery stood and felt her around her breasts. "You don't really have a lot of breast tissue to work with, so I'll have to go under the muscle…"

"What about a muscle tear? And the recuperation time is longer if you go under the muscle. Wouldn't it be better to place them on top of the muscle?" Parker interjected. She wasn't trying to give the doctor a hard time, but she was worried about Avery. She was taking everything that the doctor suggested as the best idea she'd ever heard. Parker knew Avery. And when she had her mind set on something, she heard what she wanted to hear. She didn't even consider any other possibilities.

Nodding at Parker, he addressed her concern. "Being as though we don't have much to work with, if I placed it on top of the muscle the breast would _look_ fake. It would stick out and most likely you would be able to see where the implant is located. Under the muscle, we can fill it and what would show in the actual breast is the muscle…giving it a more natural, round look."

"But saline implants often need to be re-inflated."

"And silicon leaks. I don't do silicon implants due to the risk to the patient." Dr. Taylor gave Avery another set of implants to try and could tell right away that she was pleased with them. "This is a large B. A small C is as large as I would be willing to go. I don't want to risk tearing your muscle."

Avery's smile couldn't be wider. She couldn't stop imagining what she would look like with a tank top on, or in a bikini. She could wear low cut shirts and pretty bras and finally have cleavage. If Jeff thought she was sexy now, just wait until he got a load of her new assets. "Definitely the C."

"How much is this going to cost?" Parker cut straight to the chase, looking at her watch one more time. She needed to get a move on and the ER was located on the other side of the campus. She couldn't chance missing rounds.

"Well, we have payment plans. And the price is all inclusive…consultation, surgery, post op, and follow up visits. You're looking at about seventy five hundred, roughly, but our finance director can talk to you more about that."

If that wasn't enough to make Avery change her mind, Parker didn't know what else would. But Avery seemed nonplussed by the price tag. "How soon can I have it done?" She couldn't take her eyes off the mirror. Jeff was going to love her new chest, almost as much as she was sure that she was going to.

"Why don't you get dressed and Roberta will look at the schedule with you." Turning his attention to Parker, Dr. Taylor raised his brows. "Dr. Sutton, here's my card. I offer a colleague discount on liposuction and tummy tucks?"

Parker wasn't going to insult her colleague, not now. But the remark cut. She could tell by his tone of voice that he wasn't being flippant; he was just trying to drum up more business. But it still cut. "No, thank you." She said through clinched teeth taking his card and crushing it in her palm.

"Let me know if you change your mind." Dr. Taylor shook Avery's hand and patted her shoulder. "I'll be seeing you soon, Ms. Brooks."

The comment and Parker's reaction completely went over Avery's head. She couldn't stop thinking that finally she would love her body. And when Parker told her she had to leave she only nodded in response. "Okay. Thanks Park…I'll see you later." She reluctantly handed over the implants and went to retrieve her shirt.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: I'm sorry it's taken me so long to post this chapter. I've had some family issues and really have lost my love of writing for the moment. But I haven't given up. I've changed this chapter about 14 times. I just couldn't get it to do what I wanted it to, and I still can't. But, at least, it flows with the next chapter now._

_Thank you for your patience._

* * *

Randy Orton stood in the middle of the hallway with his arms raised. He was due to go out in a matter of minutes, and now this was the last thing that had to be done. Looking down at the woman kneeling in front of him, he couldn't stop the smirk as her hand glided over his thigh. "Not too much this time. I don't wanna look like I been rolling around in Crisco."

It was the sound of a throat being cleared that made him look up from the precarious position he was in before a full fledged smile broke out. Parker walked toward this statuesque man and folded her arms across her chest. "So, is this what you do when I'm not around?"

With a nod, Randy flinched when the woman's hand touched the spot right under his groin. "Well, shit. Somebody had to do it. If you wanted the job you woulda been here earlier."

"You don't know what I wanna do." Parker walked over to Randy and poked him in the chest. God he looked good with oil on. Not so much that he looked like a grease monkey, but just enough to make every single muscle glisten. It was truly one of her favorite things about him. When he was at work, in those little ass trunks, all greased to perfection…oh the things that ran through her mind.

"You wanna grease me down?" Randy's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he bent close to Parker's ear. He the scent of her hair was as just as intoxicating to him as the pulse in the bend of her neck. Fuck having to work. He hadn't seen her in a week. He could go on a little later. "Cause we can go in one of them room back there, and you could definitely rub something wet all over my body."

With a disgusted sigh, Parker pushed Randy causing him to stumble over the woman now oiling his back. "I'm not rubbing anything on you."

"You say that shit now." Taking one arm around her waist, Randy pulled Parker to him and planted a hard kiss on her lips. He moved his head back an inch to look at her face and instantly stuck his chest out. "You were saying?"

What was she saying? Had she even been talking? She couldn't seem to remember at that point in time. "Huh?"

"Exactly." Randy turned his head and nodded at the woman as she put the lid on her jar of oil. "Alright. I gotta go. I'll see you in a few." Placing one more kiss on Parker's lips, Randy smirked at the mousey brunette standing behind him. "Thanks Daphne. Same time tomorrow?" He put his arm around Daphne's shoulder and walked with her down the hall toward the stage entrance.

Truth be told, there were three women in all that had the task of making sure the talent looked their best at all times, and Daphne was definitely Randy's favorite. She was a tiny little thing, about five feet tall and eighty pounds soaking wet. She had mousey brown hair that needed to be styled desperately and these horrible black rimmed glasses. But the one thing going for Daphne was her smile. It was beautiful. She definitely wasn't someone that anyone else on the roster would think twice about, but to Randy, she was fair game. Anything with breasts was. And if he wasn't with Parker more than likely he would gladly be telling her that.

Parker smiled as the smaller woman made her way down the hall with her man. She wondered if Randy could see the twinge of jealousy that shined in her eyes when Daphne's small arm came around Randy's waist. It was silly really. Randy had balls, but they weren't big enough to try to pick up another woman right in front of her. Were they?

She just needed to get used to this. Randy was surrounded by beautiful women everyday. He was even surrounded by "skinny-minis" that looked drowned rats. That didn't mean that he wanted them. Why would he have invited her there if he was interested in anyone else? He was happy. She was happy. This was what relationships were all about, right?

* * *

"I just gotta take a shower, then we'll go eat." Tucking his hair behind his ears, Jeff Hardy leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Avery's lips. "Gimme ten minutes."

Avery nodded her head and watched as Jeff walked away. Turning around to the snack table, she picked through the selection there. Not really hungry, she decided on a bag of chips and a bottle of water before taking a seat at the table in the middle of the room. She still couldn't get used to being backstage with the WWE, although she no longer found herself star struck. For the most part, the guys were cool, but the Divas…she still hadn't gotten used to them.

It was bad enough that most of those girls were beautiful, that is when they had all of their makeup caked on. But did they always have to walk around with super tight pants and little bra tops on? Jeff worked with women whose boobs were bigger than their heads. These chicks had jugs that seemed to sit up on their own, creating cleavage that would smother each and every one of them if they lowered their chins to their chests. How was it that they didn't fall over being so top heavy? This is what she had to contend with. "There is no way in hell I'm getting my tits that big." She said leaning over to Parker nodding toward Jillian Hall.

Parker rolled her eyes and continued to flip through her magazine. "If you're going to pay to get them, why not go all out?" Hoping that Avery could hear the sarcasm in her voice, she looked up and curled her lips at her best friend. "I think you should get ones like Candace."

"Hell no. Have you seen her pictures on the internet? They look horrible. They stick out on the sides, and her breast bone sticks out in the middle. She looks like a mutant chicken." Laughing at the image, Avery rested her chin on her palm. "I think I might go natural like Kelly Kelly, or Layla. They're stacked, but not all crazy looking."

"Yours are gonna look crazy, regardless. You don't have the frame for a big chest." Reaching over for Avery's bag of chips, Parker took a few and waited for the smart ass remark. "You're gonna end up with porno tits. You know the kind that stands up on end, even when you're lying down. Or they might slide back and show the imprint of the bag. Or they'll float in front of you when you get in the pool. Or worse they'll pop when Jeff gets on top of you! And he'll be all, 'Avery you sprung a leak.'"

"No he won't. Shut up, Parker." Avery pushed Parker's arm and shook her head as her friend laughed. "They're going to be perfect, and symmetrical. And Jeff's going to love them."

Raising her brow, Parker shook her head. She had tried everything from being supportive of Avery's current body, to telling her that breast implants were stupid. Nothing seemed to be working. "No. You know what's gonna happen? Matt will love them. You know how he loves those chicks with big fake tits. Lita…"

"That pit-bull faced Ashley and Velvet Sky…"

Parker turned on her chair to face Avery with a look of utter confusion on her face. "I thought she was Gregory Helm's girlfriend."

"You've seen the pictures on his MySpace page. I was over Jeff's one time and she was there, Matt was all over her." Dropping her head to the table, Avery cringed. "Oh God, my fake tits are going to make Matt Hardy love me. Maybe I shouldn't do it." She lifted her head, only to see Jeff standing at the door, smiling at Jillian before he looked over at her. "To hell with Matt. I want Jeff to have pillows to rest on, and fun bags to play with. Even if I do look like a mutant chicken."

* * *

The chatter of the restaurant created a gentle hum accented by the clicking of silverware on plates. It wasn't that crowded, possibly due to the time of night, but there were enough people there to make it feel warm and inviting. Jeff and Randy had never been there before, but the girls had. Well not to this one, exactly, but there was an M&S Grill in Harborplace, and a chain was a chain, no?

Parker didn't need to look at the menu. Every time she went to M&S Grill she always got the same thing: fresh garden salad, crab dip, crab cake platter and cherry cheese cake. It was her favorite, even if the crab cake platter was served with asparagus. Why in the hell they decided it was a good idea to serve asparagus with crab cakes, was beyond her. But she normally traded that nasty crap for Avery's fries. An even trade in her mind.

Sitting down her menu, Avery looked at Jeff and smiled. "I think I'm just going to get a salad." Since when? Avery usually ate just as much if not more than Parker, and now she going for a salad? First fake boobs, now a diet? What the hell was Avery doing? Jeff was already crazy about her, what was all of this shit?

Cutting her eye at Avery, and getting the stink face back, Parker shook her head. The hell with Avery and her _salad_. She was getting the crab cake platter and she didn't give a shit what Randy thought about it.

Avery's eyes cut over to the waitress approaching the table, and instantly her arms folded across her chest. It was bad enough that the uniform of a white shirt and black skirt had been altered to look like she was about to slide down a pole. But did she have to make those goo-goo eyes at Jeff? "I didn't know they were hiring Hooters girls these days." She said before lifting her glass to her lips.

Jeff's placed his hand on Avery's leg and gave it a light squeeze. "Be nice." He whispered close to her ear before kissing her cheek. He hadn't even noticed the waitress looking at him, but even he couldn't deny the way she bent at the waist and pushed her cleavage in Randy's face.

Parker should have been used to this. Women always seemed to be throwing themselves at Randy. Maybe it was the arrogant way he carried himself. He definitely presented those Alpha Male vibes. And normally she wouldn't mind. All types of women found him attractive. But there was something about this one that pissed her off.

She was cute. And that little giggle of hers was adorable. Randy wasn't much a shipper for that hair toss thing, especially around the bread on table. But, if she was willing to flirt, then he was willing to get free shit. "What do you recommend, sweetheart?" Randy smiled when she giggled at him using the term of endearment.

"I think the steak is pretty good. That is, unless you want some fish." She had the audacity to wink at him. In front of the two women who could have killed her with the looks on their faces alone.

Raising a brow, Randy smiled, before rubbing his hand across his chin. "That does sound tempting." He quickly stopped smiling though when he felt someone's foot connect with his shin.

"Well maybe I could tempt you one more time. I know it's against company policy, but you think I could get y'alls autographs?" Handing her pen and order pad toward Randy, the sluttiest and worst waitress in history, tossed her hair one more time and shoved her chest a little further in Randy's face.

"No, but you could take our order." Avery's mug broke down as she rolled her neck at the woman.

"Anywhere else you want me to sign?" He found himself laughing at her laugh, then sliding the pad over to Jeff and winked at the waitress. "Why don't you just order me whatever you think I'd like. Just make sure it's _real _good." He could have fucked her on the table just by the tone of his voice. He could tell by her face that her panties were getting wet. It was almost too easy. "I'm sayin', I gave you an autograph and everything. Hook me up." Randy happened to look over at Parker's face and noticed that look. He couldn't quite place it, but he had seen it a few times before. Like the night they were at the Pickled Parrot, and earlier in the hallway when he was getting oiled down. Is that what she looked like when she was jealous? If so, he thought she was really cute. "And make sure you hook my girl up, too."

Parker's eyes were already fixed on Randy in utter disbelief. But this wasn't the time or place to say anything. She wasn't Avery or anything, causing a scene wasn't her deal. "Crab cake platter." She was so pissed with way he was flirting that she forgot all about her crab dip. And she loved that crab dip.

But why was she so upset? Randy was a flirt. She knew that going in. But it wasn't the fact that he flirted, it was the kinds of women that he flirted with. And the fact that he did it differently with different women. With those pretty little things, like this skinny bitch in front of her, his tongue practically hung out of his mouth and he damn near bent over backward to be all up in their grill. With every other woman, he just turned on that perverse Orton charm. Was this the type of woman that he secretly wanted? It's not like he'd never been with this type before. And he certainly could have it again, if he chose.

If that's what he wanted, then why in the hell was he with Parker now?

Avery's gaze shifted between Parker's angry face and the disinterested look on the waitress's as she took the order. And then she noticed this bitch smiling and shit and Jeff as she took his order. "And I want the house salad with no croutons and your tits out of his face." Avery felt her chair scoot out from under the table on its own volition. Damn Jeff and his hand squeezing her thigh.

There was a sarcastic huff, and a hair toss before the waitress walked away. And of course all heads turned to face Randy Orton. "What? And who kicked me?"

"Can we go out once when you don't flirt with someone else?" Parker's face never changed as she addressed Randy. She could tell by the way his mouth opened and closed, looking for something intelligent to say, that he honestly didn't know what he had done wrong. She could normally get over it, but the revelation that he may actually prefer a skinny bitch to her, annoyed her to no end. "And you…" Turning to face Avery, she rolled her eyes. "If our food tastes like shit it's your fault."

"That bitch better not fuck with my food. If my food tastes like ass, I'm fucking her up. Then I'm fucking Randy up on principle." Avery felt her neck lean into Jeff's gentle massage, and suddenly wished that she could control her temper so that he didn't have to always calm her down.

"You're an asshole." How in the hell did Jeff get here? He didn't like drama. It wasn't his scene, but there he was hanging out with the guy that started the most drama on the planet and dating the one woman who would beat the drama out of anyone. This night was not supposed to end like this. "Can't we just have a nice dinner?"

Randy sat across the table completely in shock. Everyone was looking at him. "What did I do? I'm getting us free shit. It's all good." Although he sounded confident, judging from the look on Parker's face, he wasn't so sure.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Yea me! I wrote another chapter and am ¾ finished the one after this. I don't know how long the mojo will be flowing, but I'm going to keep writing while I can!_

_And thank you to those of you that expressed concern and compassion over the issues I've been having in my real life. Writing takes a backburner to my family, and I appreciate your understanding!_

* * *

This was odd. Not since he met her could Randy remember not being able to find something to talk about with Parker. Even though she said she wasn't mad, but he didn't believe it. The entire drive to the hotel he could feel her eyes boring into him. But what had he done wrong? Their meal was free and all it took was a smile, a wink, and an autograph. It wasn't like he stood on the table and pulled his pants down for the waitress or anything. If he had, he was convinced that he would be a co-owner of the M&S Grill by now.

This boyfriend thing was complicated. When he and Parker discussed taking their relationship to the next level, they agreed that nothing between them had to change. The guidelines said that they weren't to lie to one another and that they wouldn't fuck around with anyone else. Well, he hadn't done either and somehow he still managed to fuck up.

He knew he could make it up to her, but she had to actually talk to him for that to happen. Well, not really. There wasn't a lot of talking necessary for him to tell her that he was sorry. All she had to do was step in the room and see all of the effort he had put into making tonight special. Not that _he_ really did anything, but make a phone call. But, if the concierge got it right, there would be a bottle of champagne chilling, rose petals on the bed, and chocolate covered strawberries waiting for her. There was even to be a hot bath filled with bubbles for them. He really didn't think they needed all of that, but the concierge woman seemed to think it was a good idea.

He did know one thing for sure: romance wasn't really his thing. And just in case Parker thought this elaborate set up was corny, he had a back up plan. Randy's idea of setting the mood was Marvin Gaye queued and ready for him on his iPod. There was a porno already loaded in the DVD player. And Parker's gift was wrapped to perfection, waiting for her in the bathroom for when she stepped out of the tub. Whichever she preferred, Randy Orton had all of his bases covered.

Truthfully, he had done all of this before the little restaurant incident. He had been planning it for a minute. With the outfit he'd bought her, he just wanted to make the night special. Do something different to let her know that he thought _she _was special. But now, she was going to think it was his way of trying to make up for fucking up. And he wasn't.

Parker looked around the hotel room in shock. It was beautiful. Never before had she had a man take so much time to make an evening with her special. She couldn't help but to smile as she touched the bed and felt the silky rose petal beneath her fingers. It was a sweet gesture. But it would have been even sweeter, if Randy hadn't been such a dick earlier. "This is nice."

"I wanted us to have some time alone together." Placing his card key on the table, he watched her as she picked up the bottle of champagne and looked at the label before quietly placing it back in the bucket. She wasn't drooling. She wasn't stripping for him right in the middle of the room. Apparently this was going to be harder than he thought. "If you don't like all this, I got Little Oral Annie and some Marvin Gaye…"

"This is fine, Randy." She couldn't stop the chuckle that came from her throat at the little boy look on his face. Did he really think that Little Oral Annie was going to make up for the little stunt he pulled earlier? "This is really nice."

She said it was nice, but she didn't sound too damn convincing. Moving over to where she stood, Randy turned Parker around to face him. "Pooh, I said I was sorry. I was just trying to get us free food. That's it."

"And I said I'm not mad."

"You sure?" When Parker nodded, he ran his hands down her arms and took her hands in his. "I got you something. Well, _me_ something. Well, I guess it can be for us, or whatever." He had hoped that they would be taking a bath together. Maybe finally fulfill that little water fantasy he had with her. But from the look on her face, it was probably a better idea to let her bathe alone. Besides, once she saw that little number he picked up for her, she would forget all about his previous indiscretions. Girls were into that kind of thing. Even if he didn't need all of that, he was sure it was going to make her feel better.

Parker allowed herself to be led over to the bathroom and her mouth fell open at the sight. There were candles, and bubbles and fluffy towels – it was beautiful, just not Randy. "You did this?" She looked at him and shook her head at that damn smirk on his face. "You're pretty proud of yourself, aren't you?"

"Just call me Mr. Loverman." At least she was talking to him now, but it still didn't feel right. Parker was standing too far away from him. She wasn't flirting back with him. If he walked her into the bathroom and took her clothes off at this point, he was sure he would have gotten punched in the face. No, perhaps the best thing to do was to let her take a few minutes to herself, while he waited in the other room. Maybe after a hot bath she'd come back to the bedroom all refreshed and over her attitude. If not nothing else, he could start on the movie while she was calming down. "Look, take your time in here. I'm gonna chill."

Nodding Parker watched as he closed the door and looked around at what he had created. She hated that she was so annoyed with him at the moment, when she really wanted to thank him repeatedly for his efforts. But she couldn't get over it. How would he feel if she flirted with someone hardcore in his face? It wasn't a good feeling, even if it was a familiar one to her. She was used to not being enough for a guy. She was used to seeing guys that she crushed out making a fool of themselves in front of Avery. She was used to guys flirting with other women, then talking to her as an afterthought.

The only difference was those guys weren't her _boyfriend._

* * *

"What'cha reading?" Jeff turned out the bathroom light and made his way to the bed. It had been a long and drama filled night, and truthfully all he wanted to do now was to get comfortable. He laid on the bed, on his side, and faced Avery. Whatever she was flipping through, she really seemed into it. "Helloooo?" He poked her in the side, to get her attention.

Looking down at him, she smiled. He was so cute. How in the hell did she end up with this super sweet man, when she had as much shit with her as she did? Just once she wished that could check her temper so that Jeff didn't always have to babysit her. That shit was going to get old after awhile. He was a sweetheart. Definitely not someone that should have ended up with an insecure scrappy hood-rat like Avery.

"How would feel if I had big boobs?" Crossing her legs at the ankles, she looked down at her pedicure instead of at Jeff's face. If she had looked at Jeff's face, she might have noticed that he was looking at her like she was crazy.

Closing his eyes for a brief second, Jeff tried to collect his thoughts before he spoke. He didn't get mad often, and he almost never raised his voice. But when Jeff was serious, no one questioned what he meant. "Avery. We've had this conversation. There is nothing wrong with your chest." Taking the booklet out of her hand, he looked at the page that she had turned to, then up at her face. "What's this?"

"Nothing." Why couldn't he be excited about her dreams of being voluptuous? She was doing this for him, after all. And he didn't seem the least bit grateful.

"You went to a doctor about this?" Sitting up on the bed, Jeff noticed how she refused to meet his eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me? What do I have to do to show that you're beautiful _without_ getting plastic surgery?"

That tone of voice he was using was stern, and something that she wasn't used to. But damn if she wasn't turned on by it. Jeff displaying authority. That was hot. "I didn't do it, yet. I just went to see what_ could_ be done."

"Why?"

"Because…you're around these beautiful, busty women all day long and you're coming back to your room with me. I want to look like them. _You'd_ be more turned on, if I looked like them." Apparently that was the wrong damn thing to say because Jeff got off the bed and placed his hands on his hips. The way he looked at her, she had never seen him so agitated since she had met him.

He wasn't going to yell. But she needed to know that this was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. "_Me_? You're willing to mutilate yourself for me? Did I ever ask you to? Have I ever said that I wasn't happy with anything about you?"

"No." She answered quietly. "But Jeff, I gotta lotta shit with me. You can't take me out without me carrying the fuck on. I don't like those skank bitches back stage. We don't hang out with your friends anymore because I still owe Haas and Cena a beat down and when I see them bitches, I'm cashing that shit in..." She was veering from the subject and noticing the smile on Jeff's lips.

Although Avery was a lot to handle at times, her devotion to her friends was one of the most beautiful things about her. And the fact that she had no fear was such a turn on to him. Even if it wasn't what he was used to, and something that he never thought he wanted. He did want it, because it was part of her. "Avery, I don't mind your temper. I know you do it because you care about the people you love…and because you have some insecurities. I can live with that. But what I can't live with is you wanting to change for me."

"I just want to be in your league."

"Well, I don't like busty women! I like normal looking girls that are proportionate!" He yelled. He didn't mean to yell. But what the hell was she talking about being in his league? What league did he have? He was a backwoods Hill-Billie that lived in a fucking trailer. He wasn't a bawler. He damn sure wasn't a player. He was the weird guy that always had to analyze every damn thing. "Look. I like everything about you. I love you and it ain't got nothin' to do with your chest size. So if you're doin' this for me, don't. I don't want it."

Did he just say he loved her? What the fuck was she supposed to do with that information? It was one thing to make sure that he stayed interested in her as his girlfriend. But now she had to keep him in love with her. And whether he admitted to liking busty women or not, she noticed the way he looked at Jillian's chest first and her face second. He never did that with her. "Wait, you love me?"

Nodding his head, Jeff sat back on the bed next to her. "Yeah."

She couldn't for the life of her fully understand what that meant, because the only thing she could think about was how much more he would love her if she were more well endowed.

* * *

The bath had been just what Parker needed. It seemed like all of the irritation she was feeling for Randy a few minutes before seemed to go down the drain with the water. He had apologized. What more did she want from him? He was sorry, he made it up to her in a big way. She wasn't ruining their weekend together being mad about that stupid waitress that she would never have to see again.

Walking over to the counter, she looked at the wrapped box and shook her head at what other surprises Randy might have had in store for her. Carefully pulling the bow off of the box, she untucked the corners of the wrapping and removed the lid. Lingerie. Not something that she was normally into. And if she had to pick what she would wear, this wouldn't be it. But Randy had picked it out for her. He must've thought that it was nice. The man had limited taste, that's for damn sure.

She picked up the laced panties and held them up. "Wait." Why were they so small? Sure lingerie should be fitted, but was it was supposed to be tight? It wasn't like she ever really tried to wear it before, so she wasn't what anyone would call an expert. But she could judge by stretching out the elastic sides that her big ass wasn't fitting in them. Sitting them down on the sink, she went to pull the bodice out of the box. "He has got to be fucking kidding me."

Did Randy look at her at all? How in the hell did he think she could fit into a size ten anything? She hadn't been able to wear a ten since about the fifth grade. It was amazing how that one sweet gesture made her feel fat. Parker never _felt_ fat. She knew that she was, but in her mind, she was smaller than she actually was. She felt cute, and average. Hell, as long as she didn't compare herself to other people, she could convince herself that she was small, for someone her size. It wasn't until she got a brief glimpse of how Randy saw her that she felt like a beached whale.

This wasn't his fault. She shouldn't be mad at him, but she couldn't help it. He was supposed to see her for who and what she was. He wasn't supposed to try to make her over. At least if he was going to buy her something so small, he could've gotten it in cotton she could have tried to squeeze her big thighs into it. But lace? That shit would have torn if she even attempted. And then what? Be humiliated walking out of the bathroom with holey panties on because her fat couldn't be contained in them? Fuck that.

Reaching for the robe on the back of the bathroom door, Parker looked at herself in the mirror and held her head high. "I am the body beautiful." She hadn't had to tell herself that in months. Not since that time she had first hooked up with him. Randy saw her that way, at least she thought. Now she wasn't so sure. "I'm a supermodel. I'm sexy whether I rock a t-shirt to sleep, or dress up like his fantasy." She didn't believe a word that just came out of her mouth, but she would damned if he would know that.

Randy's smile slowly slid off of his face when he saw her discard the robe and pull an oversized t-shirt out of her bag. She was supposed to be smelling all good, like lavender bubbles, and wearing his outfit. He was supposed to be dimming the lights and putting on Marvin. "Uh…something wrong?"

"No." She answered making her way to the bed and pulling back the covers. She was determined she was going to do this. She was going to make him see that she beautiful at a size 26, even if she didn't feel it on the inside right now.

"So, why you ain't wearing that outfit? You don't like it?" It was classy, like her. It wasn't nearly as nasty as he would have liked for it to be. He figured he'd work up to that. He didn't want to come busting all out with all of his kinkiness this early in their newfound relationship.

Parker shrugged and pulled the covers down on his side of the bed. "Does it matter?" She motioned for him to join her pulled his face down to hers when he was close enough. She kissed him harshly, like she was trying to prove a point. If she had to go all out porn star on him tonight she would. And he would never make that mistake again.

Whether she was wearing a t-shirt or a teddy, it didn't matter. Randy was going to get some ass with the lights on, and porn was playing in the background. His whole super romantic evening hadn't gone off the way he planned, but this was way more his style than all that other shit. It was shaping up to be a great evening. But, when his hand slid up her night shirt, he felt her push it back down. "What?"

Parker shook her head, and kissed him again, her hands trailing over the muscles on his back. She was determined. Her hand made it to the waistband of his shorts and around his length causing him to groan. They were going to do this her way.

Again Randy tried to put his hand up her shirt to get to her breast, and again, she pushed his hand away. "Take the shirt off." He whispered, his eyes closing at the feeling of her hand on him.

But Parker wasn't about to. Obvisouly he didn't like all that she had to offer, so he didn't need to see all that hanging under it. He could fuck her without the shirt coming off.

This wasn't right. This wasn't how Parker and Randy got down. Rearing back on his knees, Randy pulled her up with him. He had a serious look on his face as he reached for the hem of her shirt and tried to lift it up her body.

"Randy…"

He didn't know what the fuck was going on, but this was bullshit. As many times as they'd had sex, and all the many ways they had done it, now she was modest? What the fuck was that. "What's going on?" He watched as she shook her head and he felt temper start to rise. "Then take off the fucking shirt."

"Why?"

"Cause I wanna feel you." He had never lost the mood in his life. But right then, he didn't want to have sex with her. He just wanted to know what the fuck was going on. "Look, I said I was sorry. I didn't know this whole dinner thing was going to fuck you up like that."

"It's not about dinner." Getting up from the bed, Parker walked over to her bag to look for a pair of underwear. If he wanted to have a bitch fit about her shirt, then fine. They weren't doing anything tonight.

"Then what the fuck is it about?" Folding his arms across his chest, he looked at her with that scowling line increasing in between his brows.

"It's about you and what you like. I'm not a skinny bitch and I never will be! Those girls you work with…that waitress…them skinny bitches that keep your nose open, I'm not them, Randy! I will never look like them!" She couldn't believe she had to explain that to him. He of all people was supposed to understand that, and accept her, regardless.

Had she gone crazy? Did she sneak the champagne into the bathroom with her? She had to be drunk, because he didn't know what the fuck she was talking about. "I don't want you to look like them! Fuck them hoes! I love the way you look right now. And I'd love it even more if you'd put that shit that I bought you."

"It's too small!"

"Well, I bought the biggest size they had!" Pulling his pants on over his legs, Randy stuffed his feet into a pair of flip-flops that had been lying on the floor.

"Yeah at fucking Victoria's Secret. They don't make clothes my size." Parker refused to cry. She had vowed that she would never again let anyone make her cry about her weight.

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"By looking at me, Randy. By figuring that I might be a little bit insulted that you would buy me something _sixteen _sizes too small. Do you know what that feels like? Is that the size you want me to be now? If so then, fuck you. I'm not changing for you or anybody else."

"I didn't ask you to! I don't know what size you wear. I thought I was doing something. But apparently I'm the asshole because I don't see you as sixteen sizes bigger than that. I thought it was hot. I thought you'd look hot in it." He watched as she flicked her wrist to dismiss him. Grabbing a shirt, he opened the door. "I'm sorry I even fucking bothered."


	13. Chapter 13

Lighting a cigarette in anger Randy paced back and forth in front of the hotel. He didn't give a shit if he offended anyone by blowing his smoke in their face. If they knew what was good for them, they'd stay the fuck out of his way and let him enjoy his little piece of serenity. He let out an angry puff of smoke, before sucking in another deep drag. Maybe if he got a head rush he'd calm down.

What the fuck was Parker's problem? In the months that he had known her, he had never known her to be on Zap Street. He had apologized for flirting. He tried to make everything up to her by going out of his way to make the evening special. But did she appreciate it? Hell no. That was the problem with women. That's exactly why he never got involved with anyone. There wasn't yelling involved with a hook up. When you find 'em, fuck 'em, and flee, there's no time for emotional drama and carrying the fuck on.

With any other chick, he would have charmed the pants off of her, busted at least twice and be half way to dream land by now. And in the morning, he'd say some sweet shit to her, make her feel special and tip the fuck out the door. But now? Now he had a pissed off girlfriend waiting upstairs. It would be his luck that she'd cut his dick off in the middle of the night, if he happened to fall asleep next to her. And for what? Because he bought the wrong size lingerie? Was she serious? The shit wasn't that severe.

See, this is what he got for trying to be romantic. That shit wasn't him. He didn't give a shit about that kind of stuff. All _he _needed was the go ahead and his was dick was hard. Flowers, music, candles…that was all bullshit. That was some shit that dudes used to trick bitches into fuck them. That was some Cena shit. What the fuck did he need to do that for? He was Randy Orton.

He only did it because he thought that Parker would like it. That was the shit that the old heads in the lock-room talked about doing to show their ladies that they were thinking about them. Well, he was thinking about her. He thought about her all the fucking time. And then she goes and flips the fuck out on him.

"How the fuck was I supposed to know?" He said to out loud taking another deep drag from the cigarette. "This is bullshit. Got me running around here acting like a poop-butt. What the fuck I look like?"

Looking around to see who Randy might be talking to, Mickie James approached with caution. Randy was pacing and fussing at presumably no one. Definitely not the super smooth guy she was used to. "Randy? Who ya talking to?"

"I don't know what the problem is." He said, stopping to look at Mickie, before plucking the butt into the drive way. "All I tried to do was be nice. And this is the thanks I get. Fuck that."

"What are talking about?" She kept a suitable distance from him, all the while looking him in the eye. He didn't look high. She'd seen him that way before, and it would explain a lot if he were. "What's going on?"

John walked up to the pair and took in Randy's agitated state. He had known this man for years. They had gotten into many a caper together. He knew when Randy was angry, and most of all when his feelings were hurt. And right now, Randy was displaying signs of being both. Only one thing could make Randy Orton act like this. It had to be a woman. One woman in particular. Parker Sutton. "Come on, Man. Lemme buy you a drink."

The three placed their orders at the bar before finding a table in the back of the room. Normally, Randy loved hanging out with his friends and drinking after a match. He would have loved it now, if he wasn't supposed to be upstairs fucking the shit out Parker. And what burned him up the most was the fact that after they had their little pow-wow, Mickie and John were probably going to be bumping uglies all night, while he was going to have to sleep with one eye open.

"What the fuck is wrong with y'all?" He looked at Mickie, before taking the beer from the bartender's tray. "I mean, y'all say you want a man to treat you special, go out of his way to do shit for you. And as soon as we do, y'all lose your fucking minds."

"Umm…"

"I'm saying. I went all out, too. Candles, and bullshit. Fucking bubble bath. What the fuck I look like taking a bubble bath." Rolling his eyes, he took a long drink from his bottle before slamming it back down on the table. "It's the thought, right? Bullshit."

John couldn't stop laughing. He knew exactly what happened. He tried to warn him, but in true Orton form, he didn't listen. Randy never listened. "You gave it her, didn't you? You dumb motherfucker. I told your stupid ass not to do it."

"Wait. I'm missing something. He gave who, what? What's going on?" Mickie looked at her boyfriend and raised her brows. Obviously Randy was too agitated to carry on a normal conversation, and if she was going to help she needed details.

"You know Randy's girl, right?"

Shaking her head, Mickie looked over at Randy who rolled his eyes again. "I don't think I've really met her. I know who she is though."

"Well, the girl Parker, is a big girl." John tried his damnest not to sound judgmental in his description of Parker. He had learned the hard way about that before. And seeing as how Randy was already pissed off, he didn't want to be on the receiving end of Randy's anger. "Well King Ding-a-Ling, over here, bought her some shit from Victoria Secret. But, it's about the size of something that _you_ would wear."

"Ouch!" Mickie recoiled and squinted at the fall out that must have happened when Randy was upstairs. "Randy…"

"I told his dumb ass don't do it. But no, Randy Orton got this. Randy Orton knows every fucking thing. That's why his bitch ass is fucking talking to himself, and acting like Willie Bo-Bo right now." Looking over at Randy, John decided to quit while he was ahead. Randy's glare was increasingly narrowing at John and those blue eyes were like ice. His boy obviously wasn't in a joking mood.

Randy's eyes moved from John to his hand, when he felt Mickie's touch his. It was just a reassuring pat, that seemed to cut through some of the confusion, and softened his stance ever so slightly. "All I was trying to do was to do something nice. I fucked upearlier. I thought she'd see past all that shit and appreciate it. Then she starts yelling at me and shit. She wouldn't take off the fucking shirt. Then she accused me of wanting her to be skinny. She starts talking all this shit about she don't look like the women I work with and whatnot. I ain't ask her change."

"I know you think you were doing something nice for Parker. But you have to see it from her perspective." Mickie continued to rub her thumb across Randy's to calm him down. He was so predictable. There was something about being shown undivided attention by a woman that always seemed to put him in a better mood. It was one of the tricks that all the Divas knew to try. If they wanted something from Randy, stroke him. "I don't care how beautiful, and seemingly perfect the woman is, we are _all_ self-conscious about something. I know what went down with John and her. I know that you were feeling her the whole time. Even though she's perfect to you, there's still shit with her that she doesn't find perfect."

Randy cocked his head to the side to question Mickie. What the fuck did Parker think wasn't perfect? She was brilliant. She was beautiful. She was a _supermodel._ What more could she want? "What? Her weight? I don't give a fuck about that. She's sexy as a motherfucker to me. She keeps my shit on swole."

Mickie nodded in understanding. Never before had she seen Randy hung up on anyone. It was sweet. "_You_ might not care. But she does. Even if she doesn't admit it, she knows it there."

"Come on, Orton. Don't act like you don't see it. Parker's a _big_ girl. She's cool and whatnot. But you gotta see it." John rested his hands on the top of the table to show Randy that he wasn't trying to be threatening. There was no malice in his voice. Parker had issues with him, but he didn't with her. And though he still didn't see the attraction to her on Randy's part, he knew without a doubt, that his best friend was into her. "It's like…right there. All over."

"Shut up, John." She quickly popped him on the arm before turning her attention back to Randy. "You don't know what it's like to be a woman. _Everyone_ is judging you. Men, other women…we even judge ourselves. You should see how much shit I get for being chunky. By normal women's standards, I'm not. But by Diva standards…"

"But she ain't like that. She don't give a fuck what other people think. She knows she's fine, regardless. I know she's a little overweight. But I don't care. It don't bother me none." Randy ran his hands over his eyes and blinked lazily back at Mickie. Between the match, dinner, and all this shit, it hit him just how tired he was. But he couldn't go back upstairs like this. Not until he knew what the hell was wrong with Parker, and that it wasn't his fault. "I mean, you wanna talk about being mismatched? She's a fucking doctor. I'm a professional wrestler. See the disconnect?"

"And that's the problem. You know that she's a doctor. She has way more education than you do. And even though intellectually you're in two different places, she never once acts like you're not a wrestler. Physically, you're perfect. She's not. But you don't acknowledge that she isn't either." Shifting in her chair, Mickie leaned over the table to make sure that Randy was looking at her. Men were so stupid sometimes. He could get this if he wasn't being so stubborn. "When she's with you, she sees herself as this girl that really turns you on. But now, she sees herself as the girl that couldn't, because she fit into your idea of sexy. You need to tell her that you understand, and that it's okay."

"Why the fuck would I do that? I don't want her to feel bad about her weight! I don't feel bad about. It is what it is." Talking to Mickie was making his head hurt. It was just like talking to Parker. He still didn't know what the problem was. "So what? You want me to tell her she's fat? You want me to hurt her feelings?"

He still didn't get it. Even John understood what Mickie was trying to say. "You need to be honest. That's where I fucked up. She's not stupid, Orton. She'll understand what you mean if you talk to her about it."

"Talk to her about what? I don't care about her weight." Randy slammed his hand down on the table to make a point. Obviously neither one of them had been listening to a word that he was saying.

Draining the last of her beer Mickie thought of how to put in terms that Randy could understand. " What would happen if she bought you a book on sports medicine, with a bunch of terms that you couldn't pronounce, and asked you to explain to her what you read?"

He thought about it for a second and relized he didn't like the answer. "She'd know that I'm not as smart as her."

Patting his hand before getting up from the table, Mickie raised her brows. "Exactly. Just like now, _you _know that she's fat."


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: I'm sorry about the lack of posts. I actually had this chapter written about two months ago, but I totally forgot that it was there until I went through my files. I'm sure this is TMI, but I'm going through a lot of personal issues right now and writing really hasn't been on the forefront of my mind. I'll try to do better, but until then you might get updates in dribs and drabs._

_Also, I want to say that the story is going somewhere. I don't want the image of Parker to be tarnished because she's such a strong person. But even the strong ones have demons. This story is about her completely overcoming hers._

_Be easy!_

* * *

Throwing the offending piece of lingerie in the trash, Parker rolled her eyes. What in the hell had Randy been thinking when he bought that shit for her? "He wasn't thinking, that's the fucking problem." She stormed out of the bathroom and angrily sat on the bed. Folding her arms across her chest, she looked around the room. The champagne was still in the bucket. The chocolate covered strawberries were still in the bowl, untouched. It really was a beautiful gesture. "Fuck."

Reaching over, Parker extracted a strawberry and bit into it. It was delicious. She would much rather be eating it off of Randy's chest, or watching him eat them, no doubt after doing some inappropriate with it first, but here she was eating them alone. Taking another bite, she placed the half eaten strawberry back in the bowl and stood up. She walked over to the mirror and took a look at herself.

She pulled the black t-shirt off of her body. Did she get new stretch marks on her upper arms since yesterday? Lifting her left arm over her head, she followed the new bright red mark of torn skin around to the underside. And did her breast always sag that much? She bent at the waist and couldn't help but to shake her head at the sight. "I look like I have four arms." She lifted her breasts and turned her lip up at the dark marks underneath of them. Years of her large boobs cutting off the oxygen supply to the skin underneath, allowing sweat and fungus to grow in its wake had done that. That and the chafing. Her bra liked to rub the area, usually leaving it itchy, not to mention that sweaty boob smell. And Randy liked that why?

She held her hands against her breast to push them in a more aesthetic position. They looked good pressed up like that. If she got a breast lift, they'd be hot. She could just imagine what they would look like being round and perky. The idea of taking off her bra and seeing Randy's face if the girls stood at attention made her smile. He'd be all over her. But then she realized that even if they stood up, the skin underneath would still be jacked up. That was pretty anticlimactic.

Dropping her breast, she let her hand travel down to the expanse of her stomach, and held it up so that she could actually see Muffy. She was able to maneuver the skin, to see what she'd look like if she were thinner. Turning to the side, she sucked in the fat and pulled and pushed it, so it was more evenly distributed. But even with her stomach in better position, the fat that hung in two unsightly clumps still decorated the tops of her hips, and curved over to the backside. The love handles made her ass look bigger, as if she needed anything to make her ass bigger. Too bad she didn't have more arms. If she did then she could smoothed her back fat _and _her stomach down at the same time.

Of course, her thighs were still a problem. They were just big, no matter what angle she looked at them. Between the cellulite dimples on the back of them, to the cottage cheese looking fat that hung on her inner thighs when her legs were closed, there was nothing to help them. And because her thighs rubbed when she walked, let alone when she stood, but there was nothing that could bring the reddish brown discoloration between her thighs back to their natural tint. The rings under her breasts had nothing on them.

It was no wonder Randy didn't know what size clothes to buy her. _She_ couldn't even figure out what the biggest part of her was, and she looked at herself everyday. How in the hell was he supposed to know? She knew without a shadow of a doubt that had he bought her lingerie that was too big, she'd be pissed about that, too. Her imperfections weren't his fault. Her imperfections didn't normally bother her. She knew they were there, but she'd made peace with it. But what stung was all the things about her that she hated and had tucked away, suddenly came into the light with that gift. Randy never acted like her weight affected him, but now he knew. He knew just how fat she was and it would only be a matter of time before he realized that he didn't like it. Sure, for the time being, he was turned on by her, no matter how much discoloration she had, or that her boobs hung and her thighs rubbed together, but how long would that last?

None of this was Randy's fault, so why was she so pissed? He'd never once alluded to being more attracted to someone else. She knew he was a flirt. Hell, wasn't he the one feeling on Avery's ass and talking about how much he liked her chest, when she first met him? Did she really think that he would change? Did she really want him, too? This wasn't Randy's problem. This was hers. This was her having a bad day and wanting these skinny bitches to leave her man alone. This was her being too fat to fit into his gift. This was the all those things that she'd always heard all of her life from Mrs. Lyles, classmates, school bullies, acquaintances, Charlie Haas, John Cena, Howard Stern and snickers down the hall of the hospital, that came rushing toward her at the same time. This wasn't Randy, yet she'd taken it out on him.

She had seen enough. She picked up her shirt from off the floor and pulled it back over her head. Making her way to the bed, she pulled back the covers and laid down. She really wished Randy was there. She had never seen him that pissed off before. She knew that he didn't mean to hurt her, and she really hadn't given him a chance to explain. But that still didn't answer why he rolled out? He had been so good about making her feel that she wasn't crazy for being proud of her size. When John Cena had crushed her, Randy reassured her that she was beautiful.

So where was he when she was feeling like a fat fuck right now?

* * *

An intense warm tingle forced goose bumps to dance across Parker's skin. She turned her head from one side to the other, trying her best to resist the urge to wake up. That bed so comfortable and she didn't have to contend with Randy's big ass body taking up damn near every corner of it. She was having a good dream, too. Not that she could remember what it was about. But still, that tingle refused to be ignored.

She licked her lips softly, and squinted into the dawn filled room. Her heart was racing, and at that moment the hairs on her arms were standing on end. She knew this feeling well. Only she couldn't for the life of her figure out how she got there. "Randy?" She asked after a pant that suddenly escaped her lips. "What are you doing?"

"Apologizing." He looked up from his position between her legs, and gave her wink, before going right back to his task.

He had stayed at the bar with John and Mickie until he calmed down. He was a little drunk, but not enough that he was willing to go to sleep without attempting to tell Parker he was sorry. Only, he really didn't know what he should apologize for. Was he sorry because she was bigger than he saw her? Or was he just sorry for ruining their night? He was sorry for a lot of things, but none more than the fact that she was hurt and he just bailed on her.

A lot of what Mickie said made sense. They both knew Parker was overweight, but Randy didn't care. It wasn't that he didn't notice, it just wasn't important to him. Since that first night that they were together, it wasn't something that they ever talked about. Not that he was avoiding it, but because it never came up in conversation again. What would he look like asking her about her weight? When she talked about her aches and pains and poor eating habits, he only tried to help because he didn't want her to be in any physical pain. It had nothing to do with him secretly trying to get her to diet.

But what Mickie got him to understand was just because it was a non-issue for him, didn't mean that it wasn't important to her. His gift was meant to be something that showed her how sexy he found her, not to make her feel bad. And though it wasn't what he was going after, he had still managed to do it. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her the way that people in her past had.

Shifting ever so slightly, Parker felt her hands fall to the mattress as she clinched the sheets. "That's not how you apologize."

"I'm trying here, Park." He rested his chin on her thigh and caught her eyes which were lowered to his face. "You gonna make me grovel?" He smirked before extending his tongue and moving it in a long motion over her. "Beg?" He flicked his tongue quickly over her, causing her to flinch. "Plead?" He gently sucked her into his mouth and increased the pressure until he released her with a popping sound.

Parker was sure that she had been mad at Randy at some point in time, only she was having a hard time remembering why. Between his mouth on her and those blue eyes staring at her with such intensity, she knew resistance was futile. "Go back to groveling. Groveling is good."

And so he did. Randy Orton groveled until she couldn't take it anymore. And while she convulsed, he moved his way up to her face and rested his weight on his elbows. He couldn't stop smiling when she opened her eyes and looked at him. Raising his brows, he lowered his lips to hers. But kissing her wasn't the same. It wasn't that she wasn't responsive, but it felt different. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She shook her head, and crinkled her chin at him. But there was something wrong, only she didn't know what it was.

Running his thumb over her temple he poked his lip out at her. "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings." He would do anything to take the look of uncertainty away from her. He had seen that look before. It was the look that he swore she would never have again, as long as he was around. He'd dropped the ball, and this time he didn't know to make it right.

"I know you weren't trying to funny." At least she hoped to God that he wasn't. She'd been the butt of many a joke in her life, but that was over now. Randy wasn't like that. "I guess that bitch at the restaurant, and then _that_...I just kinda got caught up."

Randy repositioned himself so that he laid at her side and wiped the last bit of her essences from off his chin with a large hand. He had made her feel like shit, but here she was apologizing. He just wished he knew what to do now. "You wanna talk about it?"

Rolling over and kissing him softly, Parker rested her cheek against his shoulder. She did want to talk about it, just not right now. Not until she figured out what exactly bothered her, or how she could explain it to him. "Not right now."

"You want me to apologize some more?" A devious smirk crossed Randy's lips and when Parker raised her brow he rolled to face her. "I could beg, or plead this time…"

Placing her leg over his, Parker touched her hand to his face. Even if she couldn't talk to him about what was going on right now, she still wanted to be close to him. "How about you _appeal_ to my more sensible side. You could _beseech _me into a better mood."

"And how do I do that?' Pulling her leg over his and shifting her body on top of his, he pushed back her hair to her to look at her face. He wasn't exactly sure what she had in mind, but he was willing to try. Anything to see that smile again.

Leaning down and kissing him, Parker sighed as soon as she felt him inside of her. "Let me show you."

If she did this right, he wouldn't even notice that she was still wearing the t-shirt.


	15. Chapter 15

Parker tried to catch her breath, but she couldn't stop panting. Slowly bending at the waist, she let out a moan when she felt hands on the back of her head, pushing her chest flush against the bench. She tried to arch her back some, but that just made her moan louder. She could feel the sweat slowly trickling down her spine, and her hair clinging to her flushed face. "Fuck!" The anticipation was mind numbing. Her mind was ready, but her body was still preparing for it.

"Ready?" A deep voice boomed behind her before she felt a large hand on the small of her back holding her in position.

She sucked in her breath, accepting the inevitable. She used all of her might and sat back up right. "Sweet Jesus! I thought this shit was supposed to feel good." She had been trying, but no matter how long they had been at it, it never felt good. "This shit hurts!" It always hurt. It would never stop hurting. Long after they had finished, it would continue to hurt. "I can't believe you like this shit," she managed to grunt out, trying her best ignore every sore muscle that screamed at her in protest. "This shit ain't regular…it's not natural." She couldn't take it anymore. She never let things beat her, but she just couldn't handle it. "I can't take it. We have to stop."

She felt immediate relief when she felt the weight behind her shift. Lying on her back, she huffed and puffed and stared up at the ceiling. "You did really good. That was 20 reps. You should be proud." Dave Batista placed the heavy weight back on the bar and smiled down at her. "You're getting better every day."

"At what, killing myself? You lied to me Batista. You said that would get easier. You said that I would learn to love it. All it has made me feel is pain and a deep hatred for you." Reaching over to get her water bottle from the floor, she found that she didn't have the strength to lift it to her lips. "You're a sadist... and a horrible little man."

Shaking his head, Batista walked over to help Parker up from the bench. "Come on. You put in a lot of work today. All we have to do is weigh you, and I think you're done."

"First you torture me, and now you want to rub salt in the wound. I can't believe Randy calls you his friend." Allowing him to pull her from the bench, Parker grunted in pain when she finally stood up. She couldn't believe that for the last 45 minutes she had been lifting 60 pounds. She hated weights. She hated this gym. But, most of all, she hated Batista. "I hate you."

Nodding, Batista ignored her and led her over to the scale. "I know. You remind me every day how much you hate me." He pushed buttons on the digital scale to clear it from the last reading. He then entered her height before looking over at her. "Take your shoes off and let's get this over with."

She would take off her shoes if she could get legs to work right. Not only did he make her lift for what felt like an eternity, but for an hour before that, he had her running on the treadmill. Didn't he know fat people weren't supposed to run? It was against the laws of physics. All it was doing was ensuring that she would need knee replacement surgery in the next few years. It was bad enough that she had recently developed a Baker's Cyst on the back of her right knee, forcing her to wear a knee brace. And let's not talk about her hips. They felt like they were going to break at the joints. Everything hurt. Even her hair. "Whose idea was this, anyway?"

"It was yours. You called me, remember?" Did he have to be so calm all the damn time? It was so annoying. Parker normally thought Dave Batista was a great guy. He was someone that Randy looked up to and talked about with such affection. When she first met him she couldn't believe how cute he was, and he was equally as sweet. He was so different than Randy. He wasn't loud and obnoxious. He had this quiet, cool about him that oozed sex. Plus he had muscles in places she didn't know existed. He didn't feel the need to flirt, like Orton did. Dave Batista was a silent Lady Killer. All he had to do was look at you with those brown eyes and you were his. He was truly a sight to behold. That was until he started training her. Now he was just big muscle-bound asshole that got off on torturing her. There was no longer anything remotely attractive about this man. To Parker, Dave Batista equaled pain.

He was right, though. She did call him. After that incident with the lingerie, Parker decided that she had to do something. She knew she was fat, but now Randy knew it, too. She never again mentioned to Randy anything about the lingerie or why it made her so upset. Just telling him that something was 16 sizes too small was all the talking about her weight that she would ever do with him again. She couldn't figure out how she felt about it. She loved the fact that Randy liked her. He didn't see her as a fat ass. But, not noticing that she couldn't fit in a size 12 meant that Randy didn't notice _her._ It was a double edged sword. One that pierced both ways.

John Cena and the rest of the world hadn't been over to get past her weight. Randy, the man that she adored and was in a relationship with, didn't even notice her enough to see that she had a weight problem. Was it better to be seen or not seen? Being invisible had its perks, but now when she was invisible to the one person that she wanted to see her. _That's_ why she called Batista. That is the sole reason why she had made time in her schedule to go to the gym every fucking day, no matter how much she hated it, or cursed the day that Dave Batista was ever born. It didn't matter that sometimes she worked for 48 hours straight, or that she was on her feet all day seeing patients. If she had some down time, Batista made sure she went to the gym in the hospital. It was like he had his little spies all over the place encouraging her to keep training. God forbid she didn't check in with at least one of his trainer minions. All hell would break lose. Somehow it always got back to him. And when it did, she could take to the bank that someone would be knocking on her door in the middle of the night to make her get up and go for a jog, or do boot camp at 5 in the morning.

These people were crazy. Not only did they have her lifting weights, running all over Baltimore as if she was on a bad episode of The Amazing Race, they also had her eating fucking rabbit food. She was put on a strict 2,000 calorie diet that left little too no room for modifying. They had her keep a food journal, documenting everything she consumed, and the amount of calories she burned. Dave had this crazy idea that if she only ate 2,000 calories, but burned at least 3,500 calories a day that she would lose weight faster. Parker was more confident that she would lose her ability to walk, or better yet her life, if she kept up with this stupid ass plan.

"And now the moment of truth." It had been six weeks since her last weigh in. Parker closed her eyes and prayed to God that the few times she cheated on her diet in the past week, wouldn't show on the scale. If she had gained a few pounds, she had her story all ready to go. She would tell him that she was about to start her period and it was just that she was so bloated. She couldn't tell him the truth. It was summer now, and McDonald's came back out with the Frozen Strawberry Lemonade. How could she resist that when the McDonald's was right on the corner of her street? She had already stopped eating bread, most sugar, flour, beef and pork. He really wanted her to give up the Strawberry Lemonade, too? Come on. Rome was not built in a day. "Ha-Ha! You did it! Way to go Parker!"

She looked down at the scale and instantly felt tears spring to her eyes. She did it! She beat her goal for this six week cycle of hell. "227? Are you serious? I lost another 20 pounds!" She was so excited that she couldn't help herself from jumping up and down on the scale. She quickly stopped when her knees reminded her of how sore they were.

"That's a total 58 pounds. You're doing great!" Dave Batista smiled and gave her big hug. "Now, you need to rest up, and don't forget to soak. Tomorrow, you start Insanity. You're going to need all your strength."

Insanity? Really? She was a big girl, who in the hell thought that was a good idea? "No, _you're_ insane if you think I'm doing that shit. Can't we go back to Zumba? I'll even do that bitch Jillian Michael's work out at home, twice a day. I promise." She liked Zumba. It was fun and she could dance and work up a sweat. Hell, she even took to Belly and Bollywood Dancing. Anything with music, she into. But Insanity? Hell to the no! She had made her protests known, but it continued to fall on deaf ears.

"Insanity or PX90. You pick."

Was he seriously retarded? "Hey, I'm paying you, remember? I'm the customer and I'm right. I don't like the choices. I'm doing Zumba."

"No, I'm the trainer, and it's not open for discussion. I'm in town for a week, and you are doing some serious cardio and plyometrics while I'm here." Patting her on the shoulder, Dave turned to walk away. "You don't have to be at work until noon, so I expect you here at 6. We can run for an hour, then do 90 minutes of something _I _pick. That'll give you time to get yourself together before you have to be at work."

Fuck that shit. She wasn't doing it. It was bad enough that Body Pump had her feeling like she was going to throw up. Now, he wanted this from her, too. If she did happen to throw up during her work out tomorrow, she was going to make it a point to do it on him. It would serve him right, the bastard.

No matter how much she didn't want to think about the pain that tomorrow would bring, Parker couldn't help but to smile. She was almost 60 pounds lighter. Sure she was in pain, but it was making a difference. She could start to see the pay off. She had gone from a size 26, to a 20. Forcing her to buy all new clothes. She was starting to get curves, and not just rolls of fat. When she was naked, she could make out where her true waist was located. Sure she had a long way to go, but it was happening and she was excited about it.

* * *

Parker limped to the door and looked through the peep hole. She could smell him through the door. Randy was wearing the Sexual cologne she had bought for him a few months ago. God, he smelled good. She took in a deep breath and turned the knob to open the door for him.

It had been almost three months since he had seen her. Sure they talked on the phone every day, and Skyped each other once a week, but Randy hadn't seen her in person in way too long. Things around WWE had changed so much lately. Him and Cena were headliners now. Rebuilding the brand was pretty much up to their popularity. It was Orton's time to shine and he took that responsibility seriously. His taping schedule was twice as busy, often finding himself on every show, if only to make a cameo. Plus, his other promotional duties were outrageous. He couldn't seem to get away no matter how hard he tried. It was getting harder and harder for them to see each other. Parker's rotation guaranteed that she had almost no free time, either. Although they both loved their jobs, Randy couldn't help but to feel like their careers were building a wedge between them.

He still wasn't sure if it was really their schedules, or if Parker was still salty about the last time they saw each other. They had that big fight about some stupid nightie he bought her. Had he known that she didn't like lingerie he would have saved his money and done something else. He was never going to make that mistake again. He didn't need skimpy underwear to turn him on. _She_ turned him on. He just hoped that she still knew that. And he hadn't forgotten that they never talked about what really pissed her off so bad about it. He still didn't know if it was the style, color, size, or the fact that she thought that he wanted her to dress up for him that pissed her off. It could have been one or all of those things. He never asked her again. After they made up, he didn't want to run the risk of her getting mad about it again, so he left well enough alone. He knew what Mickey thought, and Cena. But, what did they know? They didn't know his girl. Not like he did, and he was sure that the size of the garment wasn't the real issue.

"What the in the hell happened to the girls?" It was the first thing he noticed when she opened the door. She looked great. Vibrant. Happy. She had lost some weight. It was noticeable in her face. Hell, she was even wearing a dress. He hadn't seen her in a dress since they went to her father's retirement party. His girl was beautiful, and she looked better than he remembered. But something was wrong.

It wasn't actually the reaction that she was hoping for. Parker had worked her ass off for several months now to lose weight. She was hoping that he'd notice and say something nice about it. He could have commented on her hair. She had gotten several inches cut off and gotten highlights. Or he could have commented on the cute black Jersey dress she was wearing. It was now, 3 sizes smaller. But no, all he noticed were her breasts. "I missed you, too."

He didn't want to argue. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. Leaning down to meet her lips, Randy planted a kiss on her that told her how much he had missed her. Pulling back from the kiss, he looked at her face. Happy he had left her breathless, he decided to ask her again before the oxygen made its way back to her brain. "I did miss you. Now, what did you do to my girls?" Holding her breasts in his hands, he felt her up in the doorway. He shook his head in disbelief. "That's about a whole cup size… A double D, now, right?"

"How do you know this stuff?" Parker moved to let Randy in the door and closed it behind him. "So?" she shrugged her shoulders. She didn't think she'd have work this hard to get a compliment out of him. She had been killing herself in the gym every day, anxiously anticipating surprising him with her weight loss, and all he could manage to say was something about her chest.

"You look great. You always look great." He meant it. He wasn't quite sure the reaction she wanted. If he got all excited about the fact that she lost weight, she would think that he thought she needed to lose weight before. If he didn't say anything, then he wasn't acknowledging the fact that she was working out. He had been down this road weight discussion road with her a few months ago and he was NOT going it again. "Why didn't you tell me you had started working out?"

She shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the couch. "I wanted to surprise you. Batista's been training me."

"Whoa! He's pretty intense. He used to train me back when he was still at WWE. That dude takes working out extra serious." By the time Randy rounded the couch to sit next to Parker he already had his shirt off, and his pants were unbuttoned. Why was acting like she didn't know how things worked with them? They would talk…just later. Right now they needed to be doing things other than talking. It had been three months for Pete's sake. He lifted his brows to her and looked at her incredulously. "So, you gotta take off your clothes so I can see the rest of the fruits of your labor, or am I going to have to imagine what you look like under that dress?" That was the in he needed. He sounded interested without getting too far into it, plus he could get her naked at the same time. Sometimes the man was a genius.

Parker stood up and removed her dress, smiling at the way Randy was looking at her. He always looked like wanted to eat her up before. But now, he looked like wanted to devour her. She wondered if he would feel like he was having sex with another woman. Her body had changed so much, she wasn't sure if he'd still like it as much.

She didn't have too much time to question, because by the time her dress hit the floor Randy had her sitting on the couch, while he knelt in front of her attacking her chest. They were smaller, but they were still amazing. "You really do look great." His muffled voice said from in between her breasts.

Running her hands over his head, Parker leaned back and enjoyed the feeling of his body on hers. "Thank you."

_A/N: I know it has been a month in Sunday's since I've written anything. I have writer's block so bad it's been ridiculous. I keep trying to write but I hate everything that comes out. Since I've had my meds changed, I'm not as neurotic as I was – that's the upside. The downside is being medicated stifles my creativity. So thoughts live in my head, but I can't get them on paper. Something hit me today and I just felt like writing. _

_I decided to change the direction of this story. Body Image was more of a reflection of what I felt like being overweight. This story was about what it feels like when you feel like you have to live up to what you think the person you love sees you. But, over the last 18 months I've lost 100 pounds. I've dealt with that trying to be that perfect person part and now I'm in the maintaining your weight and getting comfortable in your new body part of the journey. I've gone from one body image to another. Hopefully, you guys will still be able to dig it and that Parker doesn't let anyone down. _

_I appreciate your patience, the emails, PM's, and reviews. You always encourage me to keep writing. I hope I haven't let too much time lapse and that I don't disappoint. I really don't know where I'm going with this or how frequently I'll update. Just know that I haven't given up on it. Just don't give up on me._

_As always…enjoy, and be easy!_

_Shanny_


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